


Jehan Prouvaire has a boyfriend. It's not Courfeyrac.

by Gabrielique (Sacchan90)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Eponine and Montparnasse past relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Musichetta is the Queen of everything, One-Sided Relationship, References to Past Drug Use, and she saves the day, be ready for angst, but not really that much so don't worry, seriously the whole plot is one-sided love the title couldn't be more litteral, some Grantaire/Montparnasse past relationship too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 115,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacchan90/pseuds/Gabrielique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody expected the big news ( Jehan has a boyfriend. It was about time. ) to change everything.<br/>But nothing's the same anymore for anybody. <br/>Especially for Courfeyrac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the title (I swear I wanted to do something with the laws of dynamics but...in the end I was convinced to use this.) and for the bad english, it's still not my first language and trust me, it's a pain in...well, you know where.  
> All mistakes are mine.

Enjolras calls the end of the meeting only when Combeferre makes him notice that it’s actually late and the people in the Musain’s stuff  have a life and they are keeping them there only for them.  
Eponine, who is currently working, is ready to elect Combeferre as her king because of this, and Musichetta agrees with her, which brings Joly and Bossuet to agree too, and in one minute, Combeferre is addressed as lord and savior of Les Amis.

"So, Friday’s party is at my place, right?" Bahorel looks around at his friends, for a confirmation as soon as they are out of the café.  
  
Everybody nods in agreement. They weren't use to go at Bahorel's, but Courfeyrac refused to let Eponine and Grantaire spend time in his house drunk, not since they almost broke the TV and definitely ruined the carpet. So, they started taking turns in hosting drinking nights.

"Guys?" Jehan's voice is soft, almost scared, "Is it okay if I bring...someone with me?" he looks at his hands, doing his best to avoid his friends’ gaze.

"Someone? Who?" Eponine asks curious taking a cigarette from the pack she just pickpocket from Grantaire.

"Someone you _like_ , maybe??" Cosette asks with a big smile on her face. Somehow the girl seems to detect this kind of things within miles radius, like a some sort of female version of Jehan. “It was about time for you to like someone, you know?”

Jehan blushes and a little smile curves his lips. "Well, I _do_ like him..." his fingers start playing with the end of his braid. "To be honest we...are already together and I want you to officially meet him."

"You are with someone and we didn't know? Like…a relationship?" Grantaire speaks the thought that everybody is thinking, but too shocked to say. "Jehan don't start keeping secrets !"

"It wasn't a secret!" the poet replies quickly, blushing even more, his hands moving in middle air in a nervous gesture. "You are going to meet him Friday, I wasn't keeping him secret from you, I was waiting for the right moment!"

Grantaire shrugs, partially okay with the answer and not really willing to push the poor Jehan, already almost exploding, to his boiling point.

"Anyway, of course you can bring him, Jehan." Combeferre says. "I don't think Bahorel has a problem with it..."

"Me? No, no." Bahorel reassures. "There is plenty of rooms for everyone."

Jehan relaxes and gives to his friends a big smile, a truly happy one. "You'll like him, I promise!"

 Courfeyrac, still silent among the others, disagree mentally.  
 There is no way he's going to like whoever took his poet away from him. No way. While everyone is excited by the news, he feels like an idiot.   
A jealous idiot.

* * *

 

The room is silent for few minutes, the echoes of moans and sighs fading slowly, except for the steadying breaths of the two boys under the blankets.  
  
Jehan is the first to move, rolling to his side and towards the other "They said yes, you can come to the party." he smiles against the skin of Montparnasse's neck, hugging him tightly.

"Of course they did." Montparnasse replies simply, curling a lock of Jehan's hair around his index finger with an exquisite laziness. "I don't see why you asked them permission, anyway."

Jehan moves away a little, looking up at his boyfriend. "Because it's always been only us. And you are new. I wanted to be sure that I wasn't doing something that could annoy someone."

"It's a silly worry." the younger points out. "They are your friends, if I showed up with you at the party without a warning they would have been surprised, yes, but okay anyway."

"I know." Jehan cuddles a little closer to the other, if possible. "I am nervous, 'Parnasse."

Montparnasse takes Jehan's chin in his hand and force him to look at him. "You have no reason to be nervous." he frowns a little, something similar to concern on his face, but the dim light of the bedroom doesn't quite show it.

"What if they don't like you as much as I do? What if you don't like them as much as I do?" Jehan asks sadly, looking in the other's eyes. "I couldn't bear it."

"I will like them, don't worry." Montparnasse kisses Jehan gently. "They make you happy, so I already like them." Which was true, for some part. He knows how important his friends are to the poet, and he knows that Jehan wouldn't never be able to choice between them or him, so he's determinate to not arrive at that point. "I can't promise they'll like me, though."

"They will!" Jehan replies pressing his lips against his boyfriend's. "They'll see what I see in you and everyone will be happy.".He says it more to himself than to the other.   
That was the reason why he waited for months before telling his friends that he had a special someone in his life; he was so scared about the eventuality that his friends wouldn't understand why he loved so much the younger boy with the tendency to whispers in his ear Baudelaire's poem during sex.

"I actually hope they will not." Montparnasse smirks. "I don't want anybody to like me as much as you like me."

"Nobody can like you as much as like you, 'Parnasse, that's simply impossible." Jehan says with solemnity. "I adore you."

"Show me, then." Montparnasse's voice vibrates in a low and more sensual note, his hands caressing Jehan's naked back.

Jehan's heartbeat increases once again as he leans to kiss the other boy, ready -and happy- to comply.

* * *

_It's already Thursday_ , Marius thinks, _tomorrow is Friday, you can do this Pontmercy._

 But Marius isn’t so sure he can deal with Courfeyrac for another whole day, not when his flat mate is like a walking zombie who lost interest in everything.

At the moment, Courfeyrac is lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, his hands closed in two fists resting on his stomach, and he hasn't been talking for thirty minutes.

Marius, anyway, keeps watching him, sitting at the table in the living room, and the opened books on it are a mere excuse: he isn’t going to study with his friend pouting in a corner like a child.

"When it happened?" Courfeyrac asks suddenly. "When? Jehan is always with us, I can't understand how he was able to meet other people."

"It's Jehan." Marius says simply. "If someone was going to have friends outside our group, it was him. He's the most friendly."

"Hey, I am friendly too." Courfeyrac protests.

"You are flirty." Marius corrects chewing on his pen. "It's different."

 Courfeyrac sighs again, this time more melodramatically. "I'm going to die, Marius." and he is feeling like it’s true. His heart aches, his head hurts and he is spent and without energy. He is going to die, lying on his couch with Marius Pontmercy as his only guardian. What he did to deserve this?

"No, you are just...heartbroken." Marius shakes his head. "You'll be fine at some point. Just give yourself time."

"Marius you can't understand, you are happily in love with your perfect girlfriend, how can you know how it feels to love someone and hear that same person say that he's in a relationship with someone else?" Courfeyrac groans and moves, so that his back is direct towards his flat mate.

"No, I don't and everyday I’m glad that Cosette loves me as I love her." Marius sighs, but this times because he’s thinking about Cosette’s smiles and her strawberry lipstick . "But you'll be fine, really. You'll find someone and you'll be happy again and you and Jehan will go out on double dates and you all be happy."

"I'll never be happy again." Courfeyrac states. His heart feels like stone in his chest: cold and heavy. No, he’s not going to be happy, not without Jehan by his side.

"Courf, I know you are sad now, but..." Marius stands up and moves towards his friend, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "As soon as you'll see Jehan happy you will be happy for him and at some point, eventually, you will let him go."

"I'll love him forever. I love him like you love Cosette." Courfeyrac doesn’t move, decided not to look at the other. "Hell, I love him like Grantaire loves Enjolras, which is very pathetic."

"If you don't stop sulk I'll tell Grantaire what you just said and he'll come kick your ass." Marius threatens.

"Do I look like I care?" Marius groans and rolls his eyes. Courfeyrac is impossible to deal with since Jehan told them about his boyfriend.

Of course he knew that his flatmate has the biggest of the crushes on the poet, but he wasn't expecting this kind of reaction. He takes out his phone and sends Grantaire a text, asking for an emergency help. He sends quickly a second one asking for comfort food and Eponine's presence too. When Grantaire replies with a simply _'on our way'_ Marius feels definitely better.

"I love him, Marius. I am not kidding." Courfeyrac voice is so soft that he sounds like a child scared of the dark or scared of a thunderstorm. "I feel better and happier when he's around and now he feels the same way I feel for him, but for someone else. I hate it."

Marius ruffles the brown mop of curly hair of his flat mate. "I know, Courf, we all know and we are all damn sorry, it sucks. But you can't ruin this for him, can you? He will look for your approval more than anyone's else, you two are super-friends."

It is true.

 "I'll try not to be an asshole to the person that makes happy the boy I love, fine." Courfeyrac says with a sigh.

* * *

Fridays comes too soon for Courfeyrac and too late for Marius.  
Points of views.

Everyone is excited, it's clear, everyone can't wait to meet the boy who was able to make Jehan fall in love. Well, more in love than usual.  
Half of them bet on in someone really like Jehan, all smiles and good emotions, the other half bet in someone who doesn’t live in fairy land.

Courfeyrac was sos sick and nervous and for three times he begged Marius to leave him at home, but Marius and Cosette were able to take him to Bahorel's in the end.   
So Courfeyrac is a room full of his friends, alcohol everywhere, scared like a puppy, searching for Jehan.   
"He is not here." he notices finally and not without some kind of relief "Feuilly!" he called the closest person to him. "Jehan is not here yet?"

"Bahorel told him to come a little later, actually." Feuilly replies with a shrug. "So when he'll arrive we all be already here and he will not have to introduce his boyfriend to everyone that arrives."

Courfeyrac simply nods and moves towards the table were Bahorel was so gentle to put a lot of alcohol in display. Most of it it’s there clearly for Grantaire –really, for a drunkard the boy has a sophisticated taste- or for Eponine –who has probably the worst taste ever.- Anyway, he just need a quick drink, of what it’s not really important.

When the door opens he almost jumps out of his skin, but when he spots Grantaire and Eponine relaxes.

"Hello everyone!" Eponine giggles, arm around Grantaire's waist. She looks around and whistled "I like your house Bahorel!"   
  
Bahorel doesn’t know if she’s serious or not: his house is nothing particular, he can’t afford anything better or larger. But yeah, it was still better than Grantaire’s flat or Feuilly’s garage, so he simply says thank you.

"Are you two already drunk?" asks Joly arching an eyebrow. "You look like you are already drunk."

"Nah." Eponine laughs, covering her mouth with a hand.

"I suggested to drink before going out to drink." Grantaire explains happily. "We drank only one glass each, we are definitely not drunk." and to show it he balances himself to one feet and touches his nose with his left index finger. "See? Sober, more or less." He looks around, more sober than ever. "Where the hell is Enjolras, by the way? I need to talk with him."

Bahorel just indicates the general direction and Grantaire follows the indication without saying another word.

"Eponine." Cosette is suddenly near the other girl, her hands gently on Eponine’s face. "Are you sure you are okay?" Maybe leaves Eponine and Grantaire living together is not a great idea, after all.

"Oh yes." Eponine smiles widely. "I don't have Grantaire' resistance to alcohol, but I am fine." she takes Cosette's arm under hers. "Joining me for a cigarette? I know you don't smoke, just come with me."

Marius nods at Cosette and the two girls walks to the balcony quickly.   
Behind himself, he hears Courfeyrac moan in despair. "I want to go home." he mutters. "Marius bring me home, please."

"Man up, Courf." Musichetta joins them with a bright smile. "You'll survive this."

"You have two awesome boys for you, I'll not accept advices from people who have fantastic love lives." Courfeyrac protests opening up a beer. Really, he could accept that kind of words from someone like Bahorel, who gives zero fucks about relationships, or from Feuilly, who is too broken to even think about being in a relationship, or Combeferre, who has no interest in human relationship at all, having a secret –and Courfeyrac is sure, sexual- affair with his books.

"You know, I thought that Grantaire was impossible when he was loving Enjolras from a distance, but little I knew." Musichetta looks at him pursuing her lips. "You are worse because you are not used to people who don't fall at your feet."

"Woah that was mean." the boy replies frowning. "You are mean."

"And you are a child." she pinches his arms, her long red-painted nails helping in causing a little pain. "Stop sulking, if Jehan will see you like this he will not enjoy the night." she smiles a little. "I am sorry,anyway, I didn't want to be mean, you are suffering and I'll be as supportive as I can."

"Thank you." Courfeyrac replies. He takes a deep breath and put himself together. He still loves Jehan, so he can do this for the other boy. He can be happy for him.

 

* * *

 

In front of the door of Bahorel’s flat, Jehan stops and sighs.

"Come on, no need to be scared now." Montparnasse says gently, a hand rubbing the back of Jehan's neck. "Everything will be fine, babe."

"I just want everyone to be okay with this." Jehan replies staring at the door. "What if..."

Before Jehan can end the phrase, Montparnasse takes him in his arms and kisses him on the lips, somehow tenderly, somehow reassuring, yet it’s not a delicate kiss.

"We all love you." Montparnasse cut it out. "Let's go."

Jehan nods and opened the door.

Montparnasse is almost going to ask if all his friends leave the door open like that, but he stops, remembering that he’s not preparing a robbery. Damned if he will end up robbing one of Jehan’s friends’ house.  
  
Grantaire, coming back from the room where Enjolras was hiding ( no, not really, he was discussing something with Combeferre before the party started, but he decided that his boyfriend was definitely hiding ), was the first one to notice Jehan and Montparnasse.   
It takes him two seconds to give a name to the black haired man next to Jehan.

  
"Oh fuck." He says under his breath, trying to overcome the moment of shock.   
  
This isn't good.   
Totally not good.  
  
He looked at the pair with his mouth open for a second. "'Parnasse...hello."  The younger boys looks as always: drop dead gorgeous in the simplest of clothes. He notices also that Montparnasse’ hair are longer now, making him look even more classy than usual.

"Hello, R." Montparnasse smiles -or something like that- and puts an arm around Jehan's waist. If he’s surprised as the other is, he doesn’t show it at all.  
  
"Grantaire!" Jehan exclaims waving a hand in the other boy’s direction, his nervousness clearly in his body language. "You two already know each other?” he’s surprised and he’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not.

"Uhm, yeah." Grantaire stutters and notices the apprehension on Jehan's face. "Some common friends. It's good to have you here, both. I'll go and fancy myself a drink now, if you permit it." and he turns on his heels and moves to the table with the bottles, trying to breath.

This is bad.

This is so fucking bad.

This is so fucking bad and on too many fucking levels.

He runs to the balcony, a beer in one hand. "Jehan's here." he says to the two girls, his voice keeping away the panic he’s starting to feel. "You should come and say hi."

Cosette smiles her best smile, all excited, and goes back inside, Eponine follows her, but Grantaire stops her by a arm. He cannot let her meet Montparnasse without any kind of warning, he would become the worst best friend ever in that case.

"We have a code red." he whispers.

"What the hell? Courfeyrac already tried to kill himself?" she asks annoyed.

"Jehan's boyfriend is Montparnasse."

Eponine blinks once, breathes slowly as she tries to fight the bitter laugh forming in the center of her stomach. "You are kidding me. Grantaire, please, tell me you are kidding."

"No." Grantaire wishes he was. "Go out and see for yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac meets Montparnasse, then hides in the kitchen, Grantaire tries to cheer him up and Musichetta makes an offer.  
> Jehan is happy for his boyfriend and worried for his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( one day English will become my first language, but not today. So, the mistakes are all mine and I am really sorry about them. )

Grantaire is not kidding; Montparnasse is there with Jehan, and Eponine stops and stares at the pair, thinking that they are so mismatched, and she can tell:, she knows both guys.  
Musichetta is smiling and introducing herself and her boys (because of course, she’s the one in charge and that’s normal.) and Montparnasse is using his best smile, the one that long ago –but not really long ago- made Eponine’s knees weak.  
  
When Montparnasse greets Joly and Bossuet too, he finally sees Eponine and he stops. She looks good, he must admit, and she looks pissed off. Some things never change, after all.  
  
“’Ponine, aren’t you a surprise?” he asks rhetorically because he can bet he’s a surprise for her as well.  
  
Grantaire is quickly by Eponine’s side, like a guardian angel, more for her sake than anything else. He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at Montparnasse, ready to take action in case something goes wrong.  
  
“Indeed.” Eponine manages to keep her voice sweet and her thoughts away from her face.

“So you know her too?” Jehan asks looking at the two. “I start to think I worried about this without a real reason.” He laughs a little, relieved. It’s a good thing if Montparnasse already knows someone, it will make everything easier. Maybe everything will be perfect.  
  
“That’s what I’ve been telling you for days.” Montparnasse points out simply, his eyes still on Eponine. Well, at least she’s not making a scene and nobody seems to notice the silent dialogue between them.  
 _( I want you out of here_ say Eponine’s eyes;  _I am not going anywhere_ replies Montparnasse’s smile. )

“Oh and this is Courfeyrac!” exclaims Jehan dragging his best friend closer, because Courfeyrac is not going to introduce himself and that’s obvious.

“Finally I meet you, the famous best friend.” Montparnasse says amused, offering his hands. “Jehan talks about you all the time, I almost think I know you a little already.”  
  
“I wish I could say he same thing.” No actually he’s perfectly fine in knowing nothing about this young charming man in front of him. Courfeyrac smiles as he shakes Montparnasse's hand, but that’s all, because Feuilly is introducing himself. Better like this, he can go back watching the two from a distance.  
  
It’s like if Jehan, all light and sunshine, decided to dating the night and the moonlight.   
He hates the contrast between Jehan's smile and Montparnasse's sharp look.

He hates Montparnasse and his stupid poetic name ( even he knows that Montparnasse is the name a famous artistic neighborhood in Paris and also the name of the mount of the Muses ) that is perfect for Jehan's boyfriend.

 Marius pats him on the shoulder when nobody is looking, and Musichetta pinches his arm again every time he’s too lost in his thoughts.

 He is grateful.

They ended up around Jehan and Montparnasse, curiosity having the best of everyone.   
  
Well, except for Grantaire and Eponine who keep looking at each other as they drink trying to deal with the situation the best they can.   
  
If someone notices that Eponine looks paler or she stopped talking, nobody calls her on it, so she keeps on drinking in silence, ignoring the glances that Montparnasse gives her.  
Grantaire can say that Montparnasse is concerned now that he knows that the girls is one of Jehan’s friends too, and probably he shouldn’t feel this triumphant about it.  
  
"So how do you two met?" Cosette asks all happy. Probably after Jehan she’s the most happy in the room.

"Oh, I was reading in the park on this bench under a tree enjoying the springtime, a perfect day really: the flowers were blooming and the grass was so green! There was a family having a kind of picnic not far away and they looked really happy and...anyway, I was there, and he sat on the other end of the bench." Jehan smiles entwining his fingers with Montparnasse's. "When he finished his cigarette, I said hi.”

 “You know, at first I thought he was…strange.” Montparnasse admits. “But before I realized it, he charmed me into a poetic debate and then it was late, but we were in the middle of the discussion, so I asked him out for a coffee the next day and he said yes. So we went out for coffee the next day and the day after that…” he shrugs. “That’s basically how we ended up together.”  
  
“That’s so cute!” Cosette sighs in the same way Marius did the day earlier and Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. Really, Cosette and Marius are the perfect couple because they are the male and female version of the same being.

"Wait, you said springtime!" Musichetta interrupts, her head resting on Bossuet's shoulder as she was sitting on Joly's lap. "How long have you two been together?"

"Six months." Montparnasse replies with a hint of pride in his voice. "Well, it will be six months next week."

"For someone as clear as the clearest water, Jehan..." Grantaire says raising his beer. "You were able to keep a relationship secret from your friend for six months, I bow to your great ability. I bet Enjolras envy you now."

"Why I would envy Jehan now?" Enjolras demands frowning at the other boy.

"Because you were able to keep our relationship secret for like... two hours." Grantaire shrugs.

"More like two minutes." Combeferre points out laughing. "It was written all over his face."

Enjolras gives Combeferre a murderous look, Grantaire laughs and blow a kiss to the blonde.

"But..." Jehan whispers, looking wide-eyed at Grantaire. "I didn't want to keep it secret, really, it just happened. Two months ago I started thinking about bring him to the Musain, but I was...nervous. Really, I have no secret, can we stop?”

"Well, it’s better this way.” Musichetta says smiling. “It’s not like you are bringing in someone you just met and that could you leave you soon. You two have a stable relationship ad everything.”

And then the conversation focus on Montparnasse, about his job ( he works in a motel ), his family ( not very much to say about this point, to be honest), his favorite music ( he likes classic rock ) and a lot of other questions.  
Jehan is just glad that his friends are so willing to know someone new and accept him.   
Yes, it will be okay.  
  
Courfeyrac, after some minute of this small, useless, chats, stands up and leaves for the kitchen quickly, excusing himself. Grantaire follows  soon after, with an approving nod from Eponine and a confused look from Enjolras.

 

* * *

 

"You are not having a panic attack or something, right?" Grantaire asks on the doorway to the kitchen.

 

Courfeyrac is standing up next to the sink, his hands clasping  the edge of it. He asks himself if he’s not going to panic, then he answers "No, I just want to bury myself alive."

"You are such a drama queen." Grantaire sighs. "And it's coming from someone who is a drama queen as well. I've lost count of the times I cried because of Enjolras."

"Did you see how Jehan look at that Montparnasse?" Courfeyrac asks with a soft voice. "He is in love. Totally in love."

“Jehan is, _by definition_ , in love…”

"But, Grantaire, have you see how Montparnasse looks at Jehan? He love him as well. Don't give me hope when there is none." Courfeyrac shakes his head.

Grantaire bit his tongue because Montparnasse looked a Jehan like the wolf look at the prey, but it’s not the moment to say it.   
  
"Well, this is what you get when you wait and wait and wait and do nothing: the boy you love finds someone else." Courfeyrac whispers. He wants to bang his head to the wall until he can have an excuse to run away from this party.

Grantaire closes the door behind him trying to give them a bit of privacy. "Courf, you just didn't want to rush things with him."

"Great strategy." the brunette comments ironically. "But that's okay, really. As long as Jehan is happy, I am fine."

"Well..." Grantaire clears his throat. "If I tell you that for me and Eponine it’s even more awkward, would you stop sulking?”  
  
“How can it be more awkward for you two?” Courfeyrac asks not really interested in the answer.

Deciding that his friend doesn’t need all the details –or even the real story-, Grantaire smiles and comes up with an half truth. “Eponine and Montparnasse were together, few years ago. It ended…not well.” Definitely not well, but he’s not going to say it. “Then Montparnasse and I had an affair for few months.”

 Courfeyrac tries to process the information. "You...slept with Montparnasse?"

Grantaire raises his beer. "Yeah, I've slept with Jehan's boyfriend, which means that if I can face the situation, so can you.”

A second later Musichetta enters in the kitchen, an annoyed frown on her round face, ignoring the closed door.

She looks at Grantaire, then at Courfeyrac and spoke at the latter. "You should come back, Joly started to think that you are ill and Bossuet is losing his patience and they will end up fighting. I don't like when my boys fights, so come back."

Courfeyrac didn't move. "Can't." he said simply.

"Honey, come on, you are doing great, nobody would say that you are dying to punch Montparnasse in his gorgeous face."

"He is gorgeous, isn't he?" Courfeyrac sighed defeated.

"Well..." Grantaire fakes a cough. "I can't deny it, sorry."

"I know he is. Come on if he wasn't Jehan's boyfriend I would flirt with him myself." Courfeyrac stops, sinking into the awkwardness of his sentence. "I have no chance, no chance at all." he groans running a hand over his face.

"You can always try a ménage a trois." Musichetta inputs with a shrug. "You know, sometimes it works and it's amazing."

"No thank you, I don't share." Courfeyrac answers seriously. "Leave me alone for a while, please..."

"You know, you could always join me, Bossuet and Joly if you feel that alone, sometime. We wouldn't mind at all."

Grantaire frowns and looks at Musichetta, at her little smile and the way she tilts her head and looks at Courfeyrac under her eyelashes. "Oh lord, you are serious."

"I am always serious about sharing my boys." Musichetta replies. Then she laughs "Think about it, Courf, we are always ready to help our friends." she kisses Courfeyrac's cheek and left.

"Did she really offered me to sleep with..." Courfeyrac starts laughing like an idiot. The offer isn’t  that bad. He doesn’t like a bald head, though. "Oh God, I am so pitiful."

"Courf you are not." Grantaire wraps a hand around his friend's shoulder. "It was just sudden, you need time to process the news, then you'll get used to it and you will come back to your usual self."

"Yeah, without hope or a reason to be amazing and funny and myself, because my reason is sleeping with someone else."

Grantaire sighs and takes a cold beer from the fridge and put in Courfeyrac's hand. "Drink, it helps. Trust me, nobody knows better than me how it helps drinking when it come to sentimental issues."

Courfeyrac looks at the beer, then at Grantaire. "Sorry. I've been an asshole to everyone with this story..."

"Shut up and drink, you'll feel better."

 

* * *

 

Jehan relaxes only when Montparnasse and Bahorel starts talking about motorcycles, with some technical comment from Combeferre, who happens to know more about engines than the other two.

Everything is going better than expected, really. Everyone is having a good time and they seems to like Montparnasse, so it is really, really okay.

He sits on the couch and starts writing some lines on the palm on the back of his hand, after few moments, at the third line, Feuilly joins him offering a glass of lemonade.

"Thank you." Jehan smiles taking the glass.

"So, little Jehan has a boyfriend." Feuilly comments. "I am sorry, but I am surprised, really. I thought you were too in love with life to actually fall in love with a human being."

"I don't understand." Jehan frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
"That sometimes human beings are not that amazing…You know, you are like our little brother, even if you are our age, and we all want to protect you and now you found someone and...that's amazing." Feuilly pats Jehan on the back and looked at his hand. "How many sonnets you wrote about him?"

"Enough." Jehan blushes. "I don't let him read them, though. It's too soon." he lower his voices and looks at Montparnasse.

"Six months is not too soon." Feuilly replies drinking his beer, his eyes moving where Jehan's attention is, only to stop on Bahorel. "Why are you keeping them from him?"

"For the same reason it took me four months to decide it was time for you all to meet him and one month to ask you if I could bring him around." the poets whispers. "I couldn't handle a negative judgment."

From the other side of the room, Bahorel smiles at him and Feuilly replies to Jehan with a simple "Yeah, I can get that."

"Really?" the poet looks at the other with hope. "You all are not hating me because I keep him secret?"

"What? Hating you? Jehan!" Feuilly laughs. "We can't hate you. Relax. It's okay. It's your boyfriend, he's okay."

Jehan nods, but he looks around, his eyes moving quickly around the room. Grantaire and Enjolras disappeared few minutes earlier, Cosette and Marius are watching the stars on the balcony and Eponine is talking with Musichetta, while Joly and Bossuet keep on whispering things in each other's ears.

"Where is Courfeyrac?" he asks worried. "I didn’t  see him tonight."

"Oh." Feuilly shrugs. "Last time I checked he was still in the kitchen with Grantaire trying to get him drunk.”

“Grantaire wouldn’t force anyone drunk. He’s not like that.” He bits his bottom lip. “Do you think he doesn’t like Montparnasse?”

Feuilly sighs, knowing too well the reason why Courfeyrac is hiding. “Well, if you want to know you should ask him yourself.” He suggests. “I am not in Courf’s head.”

Jehan nods realizing that it is the only reasonable thing to do at this point. He thanks Feuilly, excuses himself and stand up from the couch. 

On his way to the kitchen gives Montparnasse a quick kiss on the cheek.  Being able to do such small thing openly makes Jehan smile like a proud children.

 

He is still smiling when he enters the kitchen, but the smile fades immediately as he see Courfeyrac next to the window.  
He doesn’t look that happy.

“Courf?” he calls cautiously.  
  
Courfeyrac turns his head before recognizing the voice and for a moment he stands there, staring at Jehan unable to close his mouth properly.  
He wants to run away, like he did for all the evening, but at this point he can’t anymore.

“Hey, Jehan” he smiles a little, and that was the best he can do.

“Are you okay?” the poet asks, pure concern in his voice and on his face. “Are you feeling sick? Joly said you look ill.”

Courfeyrac moves away from the window as the other moves closer to him. He doesn’t want Jehan to stand close to him and see how sad he is.

“No! I  mean…maybe.” is the poor reply he can give. “I don’t know, just feeling strange, I am sure it’s nothing though.” He lies, grateful that Joly gave him a good cover without knowing it.

“I hope so.” Jehan is indeed worried, and the touch of his hand on Courfeyrac’s arm is gentle. “If you don’t feel well you shouldn’t b left alone.”  
  
Alone.  
Courfeyrac smiles at the word, realizing that alone is exactly what he is.  
And pitiful. Better not to forget that he’s pitiful too.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to worry for me, not with Montparnasse in the other room.” He forces himself to keep smiling. “What is he doing anyway?”

“I worry for all of you, constantly.” Jehan protests. He guides Courfeyrac to one of the chair around the kitchen table with a kindness that made Courfeyrac look at him in confusion. “He’s talking with Bahorel and Combeferre.”

He sit sits with the other and looked at his hands resting on the table. “Do you like him, Courfeyrac?”

Courfeyrac stops breathing, literally, for few seconds.   
The question that he was avoiding has been finally asked.  
  
“You love him.” Courfeyrac says. “That’s enough for me, to be honest. I trust your heart when it comes to love.”

Jehan looks at his friend once again, trying to find any unsaid words on his face and finds way too many to read them. “That’s not what I asked.” He points out. “I know I love him. I asked if you like him.”

The question has been asked twice.  
Why he can’t just end the conversation with a smart comeback as always?

“He’s okay.” Courfeyrac swallows down his pride. “He’s good looking, he treat you well and doesn’t seems to force himself in doing so…”

“Everyone keep saying he’s okay.” Jehan sighs. “I am not sure I know what you mean.”

“Hey, Jehan.” Courfeyrac hates the way his voice becomes suddenly softer, or the way he quickly grabs one of the poet’s hand like it is totally normal. “Give us time, you have known him for six months, we have known him for not even six hours. Eventually we’ll like him. One day.”

 _I’ll never like him_ , Courfeyrac thinks, _not in this life._

Jehan smiles at the soft tone of his friend’s voice, glad to see the other back to his usual self. “Thank you, Courf. I thought you were avoiding him…”

“What?” Courfeyrac laughs and shakes his head. A good acting, he hopes. “Don’t be silly! I have no reason to avoid your boyfriend.”   
  
Damn Jehan and his ability to read people like books and understand them to such a deep level that he’s able to detect any kind of lie.

“Right.” Jehan smiles even more. “You look better now! Why don’t you come back?”

“Yeah, I do feel better.” Courfeyrac nods. “Let’s go.”

To be honest, Courfeyrac is feeling worse, but he follows the other without protesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> You can always find me on my tumblr ( drunkpylades ) and asks me question or just say hi!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grantaire calls for an emergency meeting, Jehan and Montparnasse talk about Musichetta and Eponine, Enjolras and Grantaire have a discussion, and Eponine and Combeferre play Tekken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will probably find so many mistakes and typos in this chapter that I cannot be sorry enough. Don't be mad at me for them, please.

The next day, Grantaire calls an emergency meeting for the  afternoon in his apartment.   
Eponine brings all the chairs they have to the small living room trying to arrange the place so nobody will end up sitting on the floor -which will probably happen anyway.  
  
"Hey." Grantaire looks at Eponine from his sketchbook. "Are you okay?"   
  
"Oh I am fucking fantastic." the girl answers. "It's not like I had nightmare tonight and I couldn't sleep." She tried, anyway, but her mind was full of memories of how fucked up her relationship with Montparnasse has been and how long it took her to drop him and move on with her life.   
She looks back at Grantaire, trying to smile. After all, if it wasn't for his flat mate she would be still in that relationship and without a job. "But yeah, I am okay. Just worried."

"Yeah, me too." the skeptic sighs. "Anyway, ‘Parnasse really looked different from the usual..."

"I'll not buy it, R." Eponine brings the last chair (the one that has a shorter leg, the one that somehow Bossuet always picks, ending up on the floor every time. The boy has really a bad luck.) in the living room. "He can be all sweet and charming if he wants...but for how long?"

"That's the question." Grantaire nods, closing the sketchbook, deciding that anyway he’s too worried to come up with some real work.

A knock on the door make both move their heads towards the door; Grantaire checks the time on his phone – quite early for the meeting, but not inappropriate- and Eponine shrugs, gesturing the other to open the door. He's the man in the house, after all, he has some duty.

Groaning something really close to _'screw you'_ , Grantaire moves to the door and opens it.

Enjolras looks back at Grantaire when the boy opens the door and smiles just a little -the kind of smile that Grantaire still asks himself if the blonde is aware of-.

"You are early." Grantaire says frowning a little. "Weren't you supposed to end a paper today?"

"I was." Enjolras confirms. "But an emergency meeting coming from you..." he doesn't finish the phrase, shrugging simply.

"Oh."  Grantaire sounds so delighted that Eponine, from the inside of the room, look at them curious. "You were worried?"

"Maybe." Enjolras doesn't actually reply, but truth is, he was. "Can I come in or you want me to wander around waiting for the right time?"

 Grantaire laughs and pulls Enjolras inside by one arm; he's still laughing when their lips meet. "I am fine, anyway." he adds concerned. "If it was an emergency meeting _for me_ I would have called you first, don't you think?"

Enjolras traces the outline of the older boy's jaw with his fingers, lost in his thoughts. "Probably." his eyes moves from Grantaire's lips to Eponine. "Oh, sorry, how impolite. Hello Eponine."

"Oh yeah, act like I am not living here." Eponine raises her hands in a mocking defense motion. "You know Grantaire's room is the second to the left..."

"Come on, 'Ponine." Grantaire shakes his head. "We don't have time for that. Emergency meeting."

"I was expecting you to tell me that Enjolras knows exactly which one is your room. You are becoming less sarcastic." Eponine points out.

 Another knocks at the door ends the discussion right there.

"It's Combeferre." Enjolras says. "We came together."

Eponine arches both her eyebrows moving near Enjolras. She sizes the boy with her eyes, from head to toes. "Of course you have, you two live together."

"Hello everyone." Combeferre greets. "Sorry for the intrusion, but Enjolras insisted..."

"I didn't." Enjolras protests. "You insisted, actually."

Combeferre adjusts his glasses over his nose. "Yeah, because keeping you at home was useless, you were achieving nothing because you were worried."

Grantaire looks back at his boyfriend with a laugh in his eyes. "And like this your _'maybe'_ goes to hell. You could have called and asked me if I was okay, you know?"

"Shut up, Grantaire." Enjolras groans, which makes Eponine and Combeferre laughs. "It's just that you drank a lot yesterday."

Grantaire sighs and nods, because he knows how much he drank and he knows how much Enjolras was concerned the night before. Well, he had to cope with the shock in some way, right?  
“I am fine, sorry if I made you worry about me.”

 Combeferre, sensing the mood ruined for good, sighs. "Well, you are okay Grantaire, that's awesome, but what's this is about?"

"You'll know when everyone is here." Grantaire replies serious. "I don't like to repeat myself ten times."

 

* * *

 

The last to arrive is Marius with Cosette and the seats are all already taken, so they end up sitting on the window sill, arms around each other. It's ridiculous how cute they always looks.

 Grantaire does a quickly count of the people in the room and frowns. "Where the hell is Feuilly?" he asks confused.

"Working." replies Bahorel. "He called me, he's doing a double shift today at the gas station since only God knows how fucking much he needs the moneys."

"Fine, you'll update him later then. We can start."

"Wait." Joly looks around confused. "We still miss Jehan and Courfeyrac."

Now everyone finally noticed the two missing friends, not without some concern on their faces.

"Yeah, I didn't call them." Grantaire says with a little smiles.

"Oh Lord, it's not about the giant crush Courfeyrac has on Jehan, right?" Marius asks worried. He likes Courfeyrac, he's his best friend and everything, but he can't deal with his sentimental problems anymore.

"What? No no no." Grantaire reassures. He exchanges a look with Eponine -well actually it's more like a fight where they decide who is going to speak. Eponine wins. "It's actually about Jehan's boyfriend."

"The gorgeous boy that looks like a panther?" asks Musichetta with a grin on her face. "Yeah, let's talk about him, it's a topic I quite like."

Joly and Bossuet look at their girlfriend with a hint of jealousy and confusion. Usually, she's so dreaming only about them.   
Musichetta looks at them and gently slaps the back of their heads. "Idiots, I have eyes! I can tell if a boys is hot, okay? Doesn't mean I'll sleep with him."

"Can we go on, please?" Grantaire asks towards the trio.

"So what's about Montparnasse? You didn't call an emergency meeting just to gossip about who Jehan sleeps with." Bahorel takes a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket and put it between his lips to light it up.

"No of course not." Grantaire, from his place in front of everyone looks at the eyes fixed on him. "Look, I don't know how to say it..."

"Grantaire." Enjolras looks at him gently. "Whatever it is, it’s bothering you since last night, just say it, you’ll feel better.”

"Okay..." Grantaire takes a deep breath, someone reassured by the fact that Enjolras was already able to connect the two things. "Eponine and I have known Montparnasse for years, okay? He's not what you would define as a good guy. I could make a list of his vices...but that's not the point. If he's fucked up, it's his problem, I mean, we all have our issues."

A little group protested about this, but Grantaire ignored it.

"So what's the point?" Cosette at least seems a little bit worried, stiffed in Marius' arms.

"I've dated him." Eponine says quickly, taking the spotlight from Graintaire, which puts a comprehensive hand on her shoulder -for which she so grateful. "It was a sweet guy until I started to want a little bit of freedom. Montparnasse is the boy who gets jealous for nothing. We arrived at the point where I had to ask him permission to go out with my own sister for fuck's sake!"

"So he's jealous?" Bahorel breath out a cloud of grey smoke. "That's it ?"

"No, he's over-controlling. He’s suffocating." Eponine spits back. "He needed to control my life, who I met, where I went, why I went there. It wasn't a relationship, it was a fucking prison. When I tried to leave him..." she stops abruptly, her stomach knotting. She looks at Grantaire with panic in her eyes.

"Montparnasse didn't take it well." Grantaire says for the girl. "He doesn't like when people he owns takes the flight. Just say that Eponine showed up at my house crying and a bruise on her cheekbone."

The silence that follows Grantaire's words is heavy and the tension is too high, everyone thinking about what they just heard.

Eponine sighs and shivers a little, moving closer to Grantaire, who just passes a arm around her skinny shoulder.

"So I am worried for Jehan." Grantaire admits. "Montparnasse is a lovely boy when he wants to be, okay? He can be charming and a good company, he’s smart, has some manners, he's a damn good kisser..." he pretends not to notice the confused look on Enjolras’ face. "But if he starts to think he owns Jehan ...well, hell will break loose. As long as Jehan is playing perfect boyfriends he's safe, but..."

"The first thing he will do that 'Parnasse doesn't like he will regret it." Eponine says with such a low voice that everybody starts to worry she will burst out in tears.

"We need to tell Jehan." Combeferre says. "It's the only logical thing we can do."

"If we tell Jehan they will fight and Jehan will pay the consequences." Grantaire shakes his head. "They are still in their honey moon phase, they were as ridiculously sweet as Marius and Cosette..." The couple mentioned look really pissed off, but stay silent.

"So what? We do nothing?" Bahorel is glad he's smoking, it helps his nerves and he has a way to keep occupied his hands, because he already feels the need to punch Montparnasse in the face.

"We keep an eye on Jehan." Eponine inputs. "If he looks strange or we spot any kind of bruises on him we stop this. For now they look fine and in love."

Again, silence.

"Do you think we could live with the guilt?" Cosette looks at her feet. "If something happen to Jehan and we could have prevent it, but didn't...how are we going to forgive ourselves?"

Everyone look at Cosette and they know that they couldn't never forgive themselves in that case.

"Telling Jehan would only crush his happy mood." Grantaire replies. "He's the happiest we ever seen him lately and it's not only because he's obviously getting laid. He's in love. Do you want to broke his dream without any evidence? We could break Jehan's heart for nothing..."

"Or Montparnasse could break his nose because he's a fucking abusive boyfriend." Bahorel says with a shrug."Then Jehan would have both nose _and_ heart broken."

"If some of you want to tell Jehan go on." Grantaire crosses his arms over his chest. "I'll not tell Jehan because, despite everything, I think Montparnasse really likes the guy. “

"But please, don't let Courfeyrac knows." Eponine begs.

"Why? I think Courfeyrac should really know this! He’s Jehan best friend!" Joly looks around only to meet confused looks.

"You are so cute, dear." Musichetta smiles and runs a head in Joly's hair. "If Courfeyrac knows that Montparnasse could become an abusive boyfriend, he will kill him bare hand and save Jehan like some damsel in distress."

"Really love, what I was trying to tell you yesterday is that Courfeyrac wasn't ill, he was heartbroken." adds Bossuet to be clear.

Joly looks at his lovers with a shocked face, sign that he didn't notice at all. "Oh." after this he falls silent processing everything.

"So we just...watch and hope that Montparnasse will not make Jehan's life a living hell?" Marius sounds concerned.

"Look, Jehan is a sweet guy, I doubt he will give 'Parnasse any chance to go out of his mind." Eponine sighs. "For six months nothing happen, let's not be us the reason why something happens."

"So we play Switzerland and be neutral about this?" Combeferre looks at everyone. "We can't ignore this! Come on, it's Jehan! He's the first to help us when we need it, he's the one with the right words at the right time. We owe him."

"They are right, 'Ferre" Enjolras murmurs, on his face the focused looks he has when he’s talking about serious stuffs. "They have been together for six months, and Jehan is not blind, he can always tell if something is right or wrong. If he wanted to date Montparnasse it's because he saw something in him."

"Let's trust Jehan, okay?" Musichetta agrees, even if all the others looks at her confused. "We owe him even that, 'Ferre. We can't go there and tell him that his boyfriend is an asshole, he wouldn't even believe us, he would only think we don't like Montparnasse and he would feel betrayed. He needs us approval.We must be supportive. Cautions and supportive. He needs us to like his boyfriend and we must try for him."

"We'll be his guardians angels." Grantaire says. "He trusted us enough to introduce him, so let's trust him enough about his boyfriend."

"Eyes open and mouth shut, then." Bahorel comments not completely okay with this.

"I like it: operation eyes open and mouths shut. Sounds cool." Grantaire nods. "Do we all agree?"

Cosette and Combeferre share a quick look, then sighs feeling so bad for this. "We all agree."

 

* * *

 

When Montparnasse arrives at the café -not the Musain, of course, the café where he invited Jehan the first time, and the second and all the others- he spots the poet sitting on a table, full of books of course, under one of the windows. Before joining his boyfriend, he orders a coffee for himself and a mango juice for the other ( the place is lovely, but their herbal tea makes Jehan sad because it's not the right taste, so he has to drink something different.)

Jehan looks up from his book only when the glass is placed in front of him. He closes the book and gives Montparnasse a big smile "Hi!"

"Hi." no matter what, Montparnasse can't match Jehan's enthusiastic behavior, even if he wanted to. "Shakespeare today?" he asks pointing at the book.

"Just starting, I was reading Wordsworth." Jehan replies reaching for Montparnasse’s hand over the table.   
Maybe they don't like to kiss in public (well, Montparnasse doesn't like it, he seems to refuse showing too much affection in open spaces) but little things are allowed and Jehan is resolute to take advantage of this. "How was your day."

"Lovely." Montparnasse lies with a smile. Working for the old Thenardier ( both the motel and the robberies) is probably the worst thing ever happened his life. The old man has lost his touch. Or maybe Montparnasse is growing up and understanding that he can do some kind of things on his own at this point. "Missed you, though." and this isn't a lie.

"I missed you too." Jehan is happy, as always, and relaxed now that his friends met his boyfriend and nobody complained. "Musichetta texted me telling me that I should really keep you because she can't wait to see your pretty face around more often"

"Does her boyfriend knows about that text?" Montparnasse chuckles, finding it somehow funny. And flattering. Even if he knows he has a pretty face, there is nothing better than someone else reminding him. "Even if I am not sure which one is, the doctor or the bald one?"

Jehan laughs a little. "Both."

"Both?" now, this is something you don't hear every day. "How...what?"

 "Don't make that face: Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet hold the record for the longest on-going relationship in our group. They started dating in high school and moved together at first year of college." Jehan takes a sip of his drink, smiling happily.

"A threesome?" the younger boy stays silent for a moment, thinking about it. "I couldn't never do it: what is mine is mine."

"Yes."  Jehan squeezes the other's hand "But who are we to judge people's love life choices?"

Montparnasse doesn't answer, knowing too well Jehan's point of view about love ( love is the only sentiment that comes free in this world and it's a mysterious force we can only follow, not fight ), instead he drinks his coffee.

"Anyway, did I pass the test? Will your friends tolerate having me around?"

"I think they will." Jehan nods, but then he frowns a little. "You hadn't the chance to tell me how you met Grantaire and Eponine." soon he's smiling again. "Come on tell me, I am curious!"

"She's my ex girlfriend." Montparnasse says without missing a beat, his face calm and his eyes fixed on Jehan. Okay, maybe they weren't exactly boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was the easiest way to put it.   
  
"Oh." the poet is still smiling, but it's more like his muscles just stopped that way, because his eyes doesn't shine like they do when he's happy.   
For a moment he doesn't know what to say, trying to process the new. "I see."

 "And I met Grantaire because I knew her." Montparnasse adds, keeping for himself the nature of his relationship with the boy. When Jehan let go his hand he frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Yes!" Jehan says quickly, drinking again. "It's just...I wasn't expecting this." before Montparnasse can say anything he adds. "It's fine, really. You know I don't care about your past relationships...it's just that I didn't know, Eponine never said a thing about an ex boyfriend. I am surprised."

For once, Montparnasse is glad he isn't a honest person ready to tell the story of his life. And he is glad Eponine didn't go around telling about how they ended up their story: he could only imagine Jehan's reaction in that case.

"I hope this doesn't make things too much awkward between you."

 "I am more concerned it will make things awkward between you two." the poets replies, coming back to his normal self. "You are not the kind of exes that can't stand in the same room for too long, I hope."

"Wish I know. Truth is that when we broke up, she moved to Grantaire's and since then we hadn't been in touch that much." Montparnasse shrugs. "Yesterday I saw her for the first time in almost a year."

"Well...just don't make this awkward, please. Now I can bring you with me to the Musain or to the parties...you know how important it is for me."

"I know, I know. I'll do my best. But for you, not for her."

 

* * *

 

"A good kisser?" Enjolras asks when finally everyone is gone, except for him and Combeferre of course, and him and Grantaire are sitting on the dark haired boy's bed.

Grantaire sighs, not surprised -he was expecting the question. "A good kisser." he says simply, his eyes on the sketchbook.  He needs to draw something, just to remind himself that he’s still able to, and yet the paper is still white in front of him.

"Grantaire." Enjolras takes the sketchbook away from Grantaire's hands. "You know what I am asking."

The artist is really glad they are in his rooms and that Eponine and Combeferre are too focused on their stupid videogames, because he doesn't want them to over-hear this.

"No I don't." He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at the blonde who is now kneeling on the bed next to him. Hard to tell what's going on in Enjolras' mind since his face is blank, except for the thin, hard line of his lips. And Grantaire thinks that could fix that detail by leaning forward and kiss the other, but that would be inappropriate.

"How do you know he's a good kisser?" Enjolras asks clearly, his voice too calm.

"Because we kissed, obviously." Grantaire replies trying to get back his sketchbook from the other, failing miserably when the object is put on the mattress somewhere behind Enjolras' back.

"I want the entire story." Enjolras points out. "Especially after what you said about him."

Grantaire sighs and let his head fell back, hitting the wall. "You know I do stupid things when I'm drunk."

"So this is another story of you being drunk?" Enjolras sounds annoyed. He could write a book full of that kind of stories, a book he would probably burn in frustration because -for god's sake- Grantaire fucked up so many times because of alcohol it’s  ridiculous.

"It's a story of me being drunk and a human being with needs." Grantaire corrected. "You know, if Courfeyrac goes to a club and flirt with ten people and sleep with two nobody says a fucking thing, but if I am drunk and I find a fuck buddy I must be burned alive."

"It's not about Courfeyrac." the blonde says quickly. "So you two have been...fuck buddies?" he doesn't know how to react so he just stares at the other.

"Yeah." Grantaire looks at Enjolras trying to decode his expression, failing again. "Before we get together, of course." he adds quickly, worried that maybe the other would think the wrong thing.

Enjolras simply nods. He moves so he can sit next to Grantaire, back rested on the wall. "After what happened to Eponine?"

"Yeah." Grantaire says again looking at his fingers, wishing they weren't having the conversation.

"How could you sleep with someone like that knowing what he did to your best friend?" Enjolras asked blankly, but something in the way his eyebrow frowned made Grantaire's stomach knot.

"I was drunk the first time and lonely the other times. I told you, it was a stupid thing to do, but it felt good and fuck the rest."

Enjolras runs a hand in Grantaire's hair, still not looking at him, breathing slowly, focusing on the way his boyfriend’s curls feels between his fingers. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"   
  
So that was really bothering Enjolras, not the whole fuck buddies thing.  
"Oh God, Enjolras, no!" Grantaire answers quickly, finally understanding what was really bothering Enjolras. "Hey, hey look at me." he demands. It is his turn to kneel on the mattress and look at the other, taking the hand that was in his hair in his hands. "He didn't. It was just sex, meaning less than nothing for both. A stress relief, that’s all it was.”

For a long moment Enjolras says nothing, he just looks at Grantaire with pure concern on his face. He feels a little better, but that's not enough. "But you knew him, you knew what he did to Eponine and you...were okay in sleeping with him? Grantaire, seriously?"

"I know that it doesn't make sense to you." Grantaire starts and with a smooth motion he places himself on top of Enjolras. "Your mind full of politics and ideals can't grab the concept that for most people sex is not really that much different from masturbation..."

"Really, you are still giving me that speech?" Enjolras would laugh, but Grantaire is pinning him against the mattress with his weigh and he has that Cheshire smile on his face, and then he's kissing him with hunger and there was really no way to laugh.

"Yes, because you believe that only people in love should sleep together. I mean, it's the twenty-first century, Enjolras, who the hell believes in this?" Grantaire asks biting playfully to Enjolras' bottom lip.

"Me?" Enjolras tries, but his voice doesn't sound so sure.

"Yeah, that's why you were still a virgin when we start dating." Grantaire half laugh kissing the blonde's jaw.

"Actually, that's why I am no longer a virgin." when Enjolras feels Grantaire's lips on his throat he reclines back his head. "Perspective, Grantaire, perspective."

"I like the way you put it." Grantaire admits and, if he remarks his words with a movement of his hips against Enjolras' is only a case.

From the way Grantaire is already unbuttoning his shirt and keep on sucking on his tender flesh between neck and clavicle, Enjolras knows exactly how this will end. "Eponine and 'Ferre... are still in the other room...."

 Grantaire seems to simply ignore him at this. Well, probably if he hadn't his hands under the dark haired boy's shirt he would have sound more convincing. "Grantaire...really...other room." he tries again. “Lock the door at least.”

 

* * *

 

On the screen connected to the playstation 2 (because of course, neither Grantaire or Eponine could afford the playstation 3 in this lifetime ) Hwoarang and Asuka Kazama are fighting each other, and Combeferre and Eponine don't look less combative pressing the buttons of the controllers.

Even Combeferre -who is really not into video games- knows a trick or two with this version of Tekken, which is, with an old version of Final Fantasy VIII ( Grantaire never touched it, because he said he couldn't betray Cloud for Squall ) and a copy of Grand Thief Auto, the only still-working game on the console.

 They spent so many times playing it together, doing even tournaments during boring days, that everyone has a character that the others would never pick (it started with Grantaire calling Dibs on Yoshimitsu and Courfeyrac saying dirty things about every female character until Eponine kicked him and called dibs on Asuka, claiming her to be a bamf ) because nobody wants to start a riot.

Yet, something is bothering Combeferre, making him lose match after match, and he can't stop looking at Eponine from the corner of his eye. He can't -he won't- image her with bruises.

"You are losing more than usual." Eponine laughs as Asuka kicks K.O Hwoarang on the screen. "Spent too much time studying, mh?"

"I am..." Combeferre shrugs. "Not focused, I guess."

"I know you don't agree." Eponine says pausing the game. "But Jehan is fine, isn't he? Probably he will be. I wasn't exactly the easiest of the girlfriends, you know? Montparnasse and I are too alike, we bring the worst out of each other out, it wasn’t mean to work between us."

"Don't justify him, please." there is urgency in the boy's voice.

"I am not. The bastard punched me and I punched him back, we are even and totally done." Eponine says with a sharp tone. The couch is suddenly not so comfortable and Combeferre's gaze is heavy on her. "I am saying that maybe Jehan is better for Montparnasse, maybe he brings out the best of him and they'll be fine. I am worried and surprised, but it's their story, not ours."

Combeferre sighs, biting his tongue in order not to reply too quickly. "I would like Jehan to just know what he's into."

"Maybe he does." Eponine doubt it, but there is a possibility. "Six months...they had the time to talk.”

"I don't think they talked about it." Combeferre points out. He tries to figure how the conversation could have been and fails immediately. No, nobody would openly admit to have hit their ex-partner.

 "Who can tell?" Eponine smiles. "You know Jehan, he can make you talk about anything if he wants." she rested an hand over one of Combeferre's still around the controller. "Relax, maybe they are the best couple in the world but we don't know yet. Let's see before act."

Combefrre nods, almost surprised by the way Eponine is handling the situation. In her place, he's not sure he could be as calm as she is. Yet, something in her eyes show how scared she is, and her smile is not that bright. "Maybe they ar..."

A loud moan, clearly coming from Grantaire's room, forces Combeferre to fall silent. "Was that...?" he asks not sure.

Eponine laughs and nods. "Yes, it was."

The boy just sighs taking off his glass and cleaning them with a sleeve of his shirt. Perfect. Enjolras and Grantaire are having sex in the next room. "Okay."

"Don't make that face." Eponine laughs again, this time become Combeferre looks like the most defeated person ever.

"Well, sorry, but I am not used to..." he sighs. To what? To hear Enjolras ( because it wasn't Grantaire, he could tell ) moaning? To be in the same house when his friends were fucking?

"I am." the dark haired girl resumes the game without flinching. "And mostly of it it's because of your stupid _'no boy under the roof'_ rule. Seriously Combeferre, sometimes you could let them fuck in your house, Enjolras lives there too, if you missed it."

"It's a great rule." Combeferre is forced to focused on game ( which is a good thing because whatever Grantaire is doing, it must be worth being a little bit vocal ) "I made it just to avoid this kind of things." he admits.

The rule is a simple one, they made it up just to avoid embarrassing moments (like coming home just to find your flat mate in bed with his partner, or like meeting your flat mate's partner in the morning at breakfast when you are wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.) and it was a fantastic rule that worked perfectly.

Eponine selects her character once again. "Karma is a bitch, then."

Combeferre actual laughs at this. Yes, karma is a bitch, because he tried so much to avoid this kind of things in house and now he's in someone's else house facing them.

Eventually, Enjolras and Grantaire find a way to lower their voices and Combeferre and Eponine can go back to the game. This time, the match is more fair. Until, Combeferre gets a text

 **Courfeyrac:** Let's go out and drink. I need to forget Jehan for a couple of hours.

Eponine looks at her guest as he replies to the text. "Who is it?”

 "Courfeyrac." Combeferre answers, his fingers moving over the buttons of his phone. "He wants to go out for a drink."

"And he calls you?" not that it was wrong, but Eponine knows that Combeferre is not really the ideal drinking buddy, even if he's better than Enjolras, at least.

"I bet Grantaire is not answering his phone." Combeferre is actually proud of the smirk he gets from the girl for the implication. "And Bahorel is at the gym, so he doesn't have a lot of choices..."

"Well, go with him, then." Eponine shrugs. "Enjolras will not complain in sleeping here for one night and Grantaire could actually buy you a present for this."

"And leave you alone while they...?" Combeferre doesn't say it, because it's obvious.

"It's not the first time. I'll let my girlish mind to wonder a little bit...if you know what I mean" Eponine winks. "Plus, Courf is feeling down, he needs a friend and -honestly- Grantaire and I are too shocked about the whole Parnasse-thing, even if we deny it, to handle him at the moment, and Marius is not able to cheer up anybody." At this, the boy sends his reply.

 **Courfeyrac:** 'Ferre, my dear, you are my savior!

Eponine watches the smile on Combeferre's face when he reads Courfeyrac's text and something tells her that it's not a smile that Combeferre shows very often.

"I'll tell Enjolras everything, don't bother calling him later." she basically kicks Combeferre out of the house. "But, 'Ferre..."

 Combeferre stops at the door, looking at the girl. "Yes?"

"Don't tell Courf about Montparnasse." Eponine says deadly serious. "Not even if he's too drunk to remember it. We don't want to make things worse for him."

"Eyes open and mouth shut." Combeferre says with solemnity and with a military salute, he leaves the flat, not sure if it's really the best thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and thank you to those who commented!
> 
> As always you can find me at drunkpylades on tumblr, my askbox is open to any question/whatever you like


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Combeferre and Courfeyrac are out (and we learn that Enjorlas cries during Doctor Who as well), Feuilly works in a bake shop and meets Jehan who seems to know a thing or two about someone having a crush on someone, Grantaire talks with Montparnasse and it's awkward, Montparnasse and Jehan have their night together, and Courfeyrac has a bad luck for text-timing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is still not my first language and it will never be. Sorry for the mistakes/typos!

Combeferre let Courfeyrac chose the place, which is a noisy local where the music is too loud and the people already too drunk, yet it's seem the place where one can forget for a few hours how life sucks.

"Come on!" Courfeyrac is more feisty than the night before -a good sign for sure added to his tight black jeans and the gel in his hair- and he's basically dragging Combeferre to the bar. "I'll buy you a drink, to say thank you for coming with me."

"You don't have to." Combeferre replies. As soon as they sit at the bar, the waitress -a wild thing with deep red lipstick and brown hair- smiles at them. "Plus, I am not supposed to drink since I am the designated driver."

"Hey, sweetie." Courfeyrac just ignores Combeferre addressing the waitress with a sly smile. "Can you give us two banana daiquiris?"

"Sure, _honey pie_." the waitress replies with a grin, making clear -at least to Combeferre- that she doesn't like being called names.

"Please tell me it wasn't a Doctor Who quote." Combeferre has to shout to be heard over the music.

"Maybe." Courfeyrac pats his friend on the shoulder. "You know that Marius cries when he watches Doomsday? Like a baby."

 It's not hard to believe: everyone cries at Doomsday or Angel Takes Manhattan, even Enjolras cried once, even if he claimed to have something in his eyes.

The waitress put the two drink in front of them and Courfeyrac winks at her, receiving an annoyed look as answer.

 "I don't think she likes customers who flirt with her. She's working, Courf." Combeferre points out sipping the drink.

"Hey, I am not the first and I will not be the last." Courfeyrac drinks with more conviction. "And I need distraction."

"Indeed." Combeferre nods and looks at the other for a moment. Should he bring up the subject or should he wait for the other to start a rant ? No, they are here because Courfeyrac needs to forget about Jehan, not to talk about him, so it's better to detour the conversation from that subject. "Anyway, I think I should be the one buying you a drink and say thank you. You saved me tonight."

"How's that?" Courfeyrac smiles, curious about the reason.

"Well..." Enjolras will forgive him, surely. "I was stuck in Grantaire's flat playing video games with Eponine while Grantaire and Enjolras were having sex next room. It was embarrassing to say the least."

 Courfeyrac burst out in a genuine laugh. "Oh. My. God." he says, his mind picturing the scene. "For real?" when he sees the other serious face he laughs again. "Do you remember when Enjolras used to kick Grantaire out of the Musain or they spent all the day arguing? When they couldn't stay in the same room because they hated each other? I miss the days, man, it was easier. Now they are all sexual tension."

"At least it's a resolved sexual tension." Combeferre jokes, deciding that, hell, even if Enjolras doesn't forgive him, it was worth to cheer up the other.

"Too resolved." Courfeyrac comments. "Anyway, are you still going to the convention with your stupid professor?"

"He's not stupid, he gave me a great opportunity, even if I will have only ten minutes for my intervention, I will have the opportunity to meet great personality and maybe I'll find my way through the academic world." Combeferre replies.

"The academic world is a boring place." Courfeyrac shakes his head and drink. "Well, it suits you and Enjolras."

"Are you implying I am boring?" Combeferre arches his eyebrow in a challenging glaze.

"A little bit." Courfeyrac grins adjusting the eye glasses on his friend's nose. "But I would never say it when you are here to drink with me, that would be very impolite."

"I am here to baby sit you, Courf." Combeferre corrects. "So you can get drunk without problem."

 "Actually, I don't want to get drunk." Courfeyrac shakes his head. "That's too much like Grantaire. It's not like I deal with problems. I need to move on, you know? I mean, what can I do? Nothing." he doesn't have to explicit about what he can't do a thing.

 "So what do you want to do ?" maybe Combeferre sounds too worried.

"The usual: flirt with girls -or boys I don't see anyone cute, yet-, bring one home and have fun."

"Sounds like something you would do in a normal situation." Combeferre admits.   
Maybe it's a good thing if Courfeyrac goes back to his usual manners. He has to lock away the thought that sleeping with strangers in order to heal a broken heart is universally recognized as a bad idea.

"Exactly." Courfeyrac grins and then raises a glass towards a girl few seats away from him.

Combeferre sighs: from the frying pan to the fire: from hearing moans across paper-thing walls, to keep an eye over his flirty friend.   
One of the best Saturdays of his life.

Courfeyrac is a natural Don Juan, with his smile, his sweet words, his funny attitude and his pretty face, it doesn't take him too much to get the attention of two girls who seems decided to flirt with him as he's flirting with them.

Combeferre doesn't even feel like a third wheel because, technically speaking, he's the fourth. Not that he cares, after all, he could try to get some company too, but he's just okay in watching Courfeyrac being...well, Courfeyrac ( and he will never admit how much of a relief is. ). And if he's staring at the way Courfeyrac's fingers brushes over one of the girl's naked arm, it's not his fault; and it's not his fault even when he stares at how Courfeyrac's mouth moves when he talks.   
The next drink he orders is non-alcoholic.

At some point, Courfeyrac get lost with the two girls under his arms in the crowd and Combeferre just let him;, he's a grown up who can look after himself for a while. The phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out to read the texts.

 **Enjolras:** Eponine told me. I am sorry. And mortified.   
**Enjolras** : Can we never speak of it again?

He laughs, because he's aware that he could use the accident as a ransom-material with his best friend, but instead he just let it go.

 **Combeferre:** I agree. Let's never speak of it again.   
**Enjolras:** Good. How is Courfeyrac?

Combeferre search for his friend, without finding him.

 **Combeferre:** He's coping, I guess.   
**Enjolras:** Keep an eye over him. See you tomorrow at home.  
  **Combeferre:** I will. Have a nice sleepless night with R, Enjolras.

When Enjolras doesn't reply, Combeferre can clearly picture his best friend blushing like a twelve-years old girl and turning off the phone to avoid a reply.   
He orders another drink, and then another, not because he's thirsty, but because he has to do something and the few people that seemed interested in his company changed their mind as soon as they realize he’s not really interested.  
 And because Courfeyrac was laughing and flirting and being splendid in a corner. But Combeferre doesn't mind, after all.

"Hey, 'Ferre!" Courfeyrac comes back with the same two girls (which is a rare occasion.) "We are going to the girl's place. Want to join us?"

 The invitation is clear, and one of the girls -who has exactly Jehan's color of hair but he will never say it out loud- looks like a normal human being who was forced as him to accompany her friend and he feels sympathy.   
  
He could use some company, to be honest, all kind of it. "No, I'll pass, thanks." he says instead, because strangers doesn't appeal him.

"Are you sure?" Courfeyrac frowns. "We'll have fun, I promise."

"No, Courf, thanks." Combeferre insists. "I'll be fine."

"On your own?" Courfeyrac sighs. "Fine, whatever. Thank you for everything an try to not get kidnapped when you go home!"

"I am a little bit boring, remember? Who would kidnap me?"

Courfeyrac laughs and Combeferre smiles.   
After all, Courfeyrac is back to his good mood, and that's a victory

 

* * *

 

The bake shop is almost empty when Feuilly is back from the delivery ( a ridiculous large engagement cake with black flowers -really, who does engagement parties on Wednesday? ) and most of the customers are the regulars, and by now he knows most of their names.

Since there is no other delivery for the day, Feuilly decided to go straight to the back of the shop, more than happy to leave the car in the parking lot and be able to work on some cake.  
  
 He may not be a fan of sweets, but this is a job like any others ( it's definitely better than the one at the gas station in the middle of the night) and he's rather good with the decorations, and even the owner of the shop said that the sugar paste seems to obey him, melts under his fingers and comes to life.

Well, it was rather poetic, but Feuilly is still in training, he's still the delivery boy and not a decorator and it should be a waste of his natural talent, right?   
Because it's about talent, not about the obvious pay rise for the change of role in his contract, not at all.

"Feuilly!" a voice calls him, so the boy stops and looks around the shop. In the queue he finds a familiar face.

"Jehan." he says surprised -maybe about the fact that for once the poet has a simply pony tail and not a braid-. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to buy a small cake for tonight" because of course, what else you can do in a bake shop?

"What's the occasion?" Feuilly asks half friendly, half professionally. Okay, he's not a seller, but since he works in the 'backstage' he knows a thing or two about cakes.

"I have a dinner with 'Parnasse tonight." Jehan smiles like a child on Christmas day. "For the six month anniversary."

Feuilly doesn't answer immediately, because hell, all he can hear is Bahorel's voice over the phone explaining him what the emergency meeting was all about.   
He doesn't need to hear Bahorel's voice in his head _goddammit_.

"I expected you to be the kind of man who bakes the cake on hiw own for special occasions?" he finally says, satisfied with the neutral tone in his voice. He ignores the looks coming from his boss.

"Maybe for the anniversary, or his birthday, I don't want to ruin the night with a poorly made dessert." Jehan laughs. "I'll cook dinner, anyway, that should make up for the cake."

"I guess so." Feuilly smiles uncertainly. Despite the fact that he's supposed to work, he just stand with the other in the queue.

"Can I ask you one thing, Feuilly?" Jehan looks at the other reluctantly. "Have you heard from Courfeyrac in the weekend? I texted him ten times and he didn't reply."

  
 _So, Courfeyrac is acting like a child_ , Feuilly thinks. Why he's always the one that has to have this awkward conversations with Jehan, seriously? 

"I worked all day Saturday, and Sunday I spent half of the day sleeping and the other half working...so no, I didn't even reached for Courfeyrac." Feuilly answers.

"Understood, thank you." the smile on Jehan's face is forced. Courfeyrac never avoided his texts and he was always up to do something together. He was worried, but probably it was just a stupid paranoia.

"Can I ask you something too?" Feuilly waits for the other to nod. "How did you know that Montparnasse was worth trying a relationship with him?" he really hopes that he doesn't sound too involved in the question, just the right amount of curiosity.

Jehan wrinkles his nose. "I didn't know at first." he says thoughtfully. "We just started going out and things came naturally; we didn't think about it too much at first. Now we are more cautious, we are trying to build something concrete."

"You two are being serious, then?" Feuilly blinks surprised -not for Jehan of course, for Montparnasse-.

"I think we are." Jehan nods. "I mean, I know I was being serious since the first kiss, but I wasn't in his head. Lately, anyway, he looks more involved as well."

Feuilly asks himself if it's not Jehan's way to say that now Montparnasse is not interested only in the sexual side of their relationship. Probably it is.

"Why are you asking?" Jehan goes on. "Nothing to do with Bahorel, I imagine."

"Bahorel?" Feuilly almost chokes on his own saliva. "Nobody is talking about Bahorel here."

The look that Jehan gives to the ginger is a complicit gaze. "Of course."

Okay, maybe Feuilly is starting to have a crush on Bahorel, and maybe -just maybe- his question wasn't totally disinterested, but they are not talking about I-am-straight-and-I-have-a-manly-job Bahorel.   
They are not. 

Jehan buys a small dacquoise -apparently Montparnasse's favourite- giving his best smile to the girl at the counter.

"Just don't think too much Feuilly." Jehan says before leaving. "There is nothing wrong about it, understood? Don't panic or something like that."

 _Too late for that_ , Feuilly thinks, but he's still in time to make this stupid crush go away and goes back to his normal daily life.   
Because he doesn't like Bahorel.  
 He doesn't.

"Yeah, sure." he hugs Jehan before the other can do it first as always. "Have a nice night."

"I will." Jehan replies happily.

When Feuilly finally goes in the back to the shop he tries desperately not to think about the fact that Jehan is going to get laid tonight. Or he fact that he would love to look that happy because he has a date too.   
At least, the sugar and the cakes don't ask weird questions about whatever the hell is going on in his mind, it's comforting.

 

* * *

 

The motel directed by the Thenardiers is a horrible place: a old build that needs desperately some work, a constant bad smell coming from the trash cans in the back, the employees are all unfriendly and the landlord -aka Mr. Thenardier himself- is an a unscrupulous man and her spouse is not better.

Their children? Eponine is safe only because she left the place, Gavroche is too young and smart to stay there...which means poor Azelma is the soul still working for her parents.

She is the one who greats Grantaire, with a confused look. "What do you want?"

"Good afternoon to you too, _chérie_." Grantaire comments arching an eyebrow. The place looks dead -literally and metaphorically- and Azelma is behind the reception desk with a crossword puzzle open before her.  
 Apparently people are starting to understand that the low prices of the rooms are not worth the squalor. "Where is 'Parnasse?"

"Why do you ask?" Azelma asks with the calculated skeptic tone that belongs to her mother.

"I want to kiss him goodbye, I decided to leave for a foreign country and never come back, leaving this desperate life behind me." Grantaire uses his best mocking tone, making unbelievable his motivation. "Can you just tell me where he is, Azelma? I need to talk with him."

"He's working." the young girl shrugs.

"Since when?" the boy raises an eyebrow.

"Grantaire." Azelma puffs. "If dad finds you around he'll kill you, especially with Montparnasse. You are trouble."

"Just because I gave her daughter a roof on her head? Come on." It's more than that, Grantaire knows it: it's about all the time he defended Eponine and mostly because -apparently- if you are bagging one of the employees, you are supposed to rent a room in the motel.

Azelma gives up, really not interested in the situation. "Laundry." she says, her finger pointing at the general direction. "I never saw you enter, okay?"

"Gotcha." Grantaire takes the door -with a big _STUFF ONLY_ sign on it- that gives access to the back part of the first floor with all the storage rooms.

 When he gets to the laundry he's not surprised to find only chaos in there. Why the Thenardiers keeps a laundry room when they barely changes the sheets it's a mystery.

Of course, Montparnasse is not working, he's wasting time watching the washing machine finish the washing cycle, he looks like someone who is bored even of hiding.

"What the hell are you doing here?" is the warm welcome that Grantaire receives.

"Nice to see you too, 'Parnasse." Grantaire replies closing the door. The younger boy just looks at him, waiting for an answer. "Just want to talk, okay?"

The simple _mh-mh_ coming from Montparnasse is a very irritated one. Not that he minds the sudden visit, he just don't like the sound of Grantaire's voice: he's not an idiot, he knows what's going to happen. And it's not an angry make-out session like the last time. When the other doesn't say anything, he just moves toward the small table with an empty basket where he picks up a pack of cigarettes.   
"Do you want one?"

"Of course." Grantaire replies; when he's near the other, he takes one cigarette out of the pack and wait Montparnasse to light both cigarettes, which of course happens because that's what always happen. Grantaire does his best to not think about all the cigarettes they have shared lying in bed together. The little things are harder to kill.

“So..." Montparnasse's voice is warmer and yet colder at the same time. "You can start now. Go on, tell me to leave Jehan alone."

 Grantaire is not surprised, they both knew this conversation was going to happen since they met at the party. "You are wrong, that's not what I want to say."

"Really?" at least, Montparnasse is surprised -well he's more amused somehow-. He goes back to his previous spot in front of the washing machine ( maybe there is a reason why he has to look at it ). "Then what?"

Grantaire is not staring when the other walk away, damned if he is. It's just that the white shirt and the black pants seems to fit the other perfectly, making every movement almost obscene.   
Montparnasse looks even slimmer than last time.   
Almost like Enjolras.   
But Enjolras has broader shoulder, and a longer neck.   
Fantastic, now he is comparing their bodies.

"Look, I am just astonished." Grantaire finally says, stopping having overlapping images of his former lover and actual boyfriend's bodies. "You are not the kind of company Jehan seeks."

"And yet he found me." Montparnasse smokes lazily. "I am not such a bad company, at least you liked it." there is no pun, no intent for this to be a low blow, just a statement.

 "It was different." Grantaire sighs. Yes, he liked it, and that was a year ago - a very old story-. "Jehan is...a romantic guy, he doesn't care only about the sex side of a relationship." the _like I did_ remains unspoken.

 "Oh but you should see him during sex." even the way the smoke comes out of Montparnasse's lips is an innuendo, the words coming out slowly and seductively. "You may think he's a virgin who lives in a no-sexual world, taking note of the way he dress or behave, but he likes it, R, and he likes it a lot. Even more than you."

"For fuck's sake, 'Parnasse, can you not try to make me think about Jehan having sex? Shit, he's like the little sister I want to remain pure forever." Grantaire groans closing his mind -and his eyes- to the image. "Too much information."

"Anyway, you are not telling me to leave him alone? How so? I expected you to make a scene at the party, to be honest."

"What for?" the older boys breathes out a small cloud of smoke. "So that the others would kill you? I think Jehan deserve to know the story from you."

"He knows Eponine is my ex-girlfriend." Montparnasse says coldly.

"Does he know you hit her?" Grantaire asks as coldly.

"No, of course he doesn't." it's a silly question that makes the younger annoyed. "And I will not tell him."

"If you touch him, I'll kill you." Grantaire says so naturally that for a moment it's hard to tell if he is serious or not ( he is, of course.).

"I touch him, and a lot. In a lot of places. You know better than anyone that I like to touch." the threat is not take seriously from Montparnasse, who just smiles at the other.   
  
They cannot be flirting, because really, they have both boyfriends and the situation is already fucked up enough without ex-lovers awkward moments.

"You know what I mean."

"Why would I hit him, mh? He doesn't have Eponine's attitude, that much you can see for yourself. He's your friend after all"

Grantaire breathes slowly, watching the smoke and asking himself why exactly he's here talking about this. "Eponine didn't..."

"I don't want to talk about Eponine." Montparnasse cut it out, anger in his voice. "Not as long as I can avoid, and since she's one of Jehan's group of friends, I will force to see her more often than I like, so really, R, don't."

Suddenly, Enjolras's question about how he could sleep with someone like Montparnasse knowing what he did to Eponine seems so fucking logic that Grantaire decided he owns an apology to the blonde boy. Or Eponine.

"Fine. Anyway, the others know about Eponine and you. All story. That's what I wanted to say."

"You fucking didn't." Montparnasse hisses dangerously, looking ready to attack.

"I did." Grantaire shrugs. "But we are not telling Jehan, because you see...you may be an asshole, but I have this feeling that you don't want to screw up with him. Even if only God knows why I should believe it."

Montparnasse frowns, and relaxes. "Anyway, you already screwed it up for me. Do you really believe your friends can keep their mouth closed? I can only image the looks they will give me. So much for my intention to try to blend into the group and become friends."

"I didn't see a reason to make this easy for you either." Grantaire says seriously. "Maybe knowing that we are keeping an eye on you, will make you behave like a proper boyfriend."

"I already behave like a proper boyfriend." Montparnasse says and the silence after that it's an awkward one. Coming from him, it sound just wrong. "Jehan is not as fragile as you all thinks. He may be a sweet guy, but he's tough, he knows more about me than you think."

 "Really? Does he knows about the robberies?" Grantaire blinks curious.

"You would be surprised to know that he showed up at four a.m in front of the police station."

Yes, Grantaire is surprised.

 "You really think I am fooling him, pretending to be someone else? Do you think he can't read my lies, the few times I tried?" He tried, he really tried to keep his private life away from their relationship, but the problem is that, if you want a proper relationship, you have to share everything.   
Not that Montparnasse wants to share everything, but with Jehan is impossible to keep secrets, the boys seems able to attract the truth, no matter how bad it is. And Jehan never commented, never argued, he just smiled and accepted and, Montparnasse likes to think it, understood.

"Okay." Grantaire has to let his mind working over the facts for few second. "Don't screw up, anyway. If you break Jehan's heart we'll come after you."

 "I think he will come after me, in that case." Montparnasse laughs. "The boy knows his Othello by heart, he would make me a decent Desdemona."

"Since when you know your Shakespeare?" Grantaire asks, uncomfortable by the similitude.

"There was a time when I had some passions outside working in a shitty motel and enter people's houses at night without permission." Montparnasse explain bitterly. The fact that Jehan brings them back to the surface is a detail that the other doesn't need.

"Okay." Grantaire says again. The conversation is over, not a very bright one, but at least cards are on the tables for everyone, and yet there is something he needs to ask. "Did you tell him about..."

"Us?" Montparnasse raises an eyebrow. "He was shocked enough when I told him Eponine is my ex, I saved him this one."

Grantaire sighs in relief; not that Jehan wouldn't understand, but it's better if this part of the story remains between few people.

"Does Enjolras knows?" Montparnasse asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yes."

"At least I know who's going to be the first to jump on my throat if necessary and why."

 Grantaire smirks, because _hell_ , this is true.

"Now, I am late, I have an six months anniversary to celebrate, let's go out of here."

 

* * *

 

Outside it's already dark, which means, it's late. Jehan run the stairs of the building till the 3rd floor where his apartment is, trying his best to not ruin the cake, his mind already making a list of the things he still has to do. A short list, because he needs to do everything. For once he's glad he has settled up the table before leaving, it was the only intelligent thing he did -but only because he knew that, once at home, he wouldn't have the time to think about details-.

If he's correct he has one hour -one hour and half top- before Montparnasse shows up to his apartment; with the right cut on the menu, he could still manage a lovely dinner for two.

So deep in his thoughts, the boy enters the apartment and moves directly for the kitchen, thinking about what to wear; then in the corner of his eyes he notices something, a shadow moving from the couch.

The shadow is above him quickly and Jehan thinks about a million things ( it's a thief? A murder? Why there is someone in his apartment? Is he going to die? Why he decided to close the shop earlier? How is going to get help? What's the fastest way out?) his heart knocking against his ribs cage.

Then a warm hand is on his shoulder, a familiar face looking at him, a very well known voice calling his name.

" _Mon_ _Dieu_ , 'Parnasse!" Jehan exclaims pushing the other away and breathing. "You frightened me! I thought I was going to die!"

"Sorry." Montparnasse raises his hands to show how harmless he is. "I didn't want to."

Jehan waits for his body to stop shacking before speak again. "You should stop breaking into my apartment like this." he frowns. "People will start believe you are a thief, not my boyfriend. Someone will call the police soon or later."

"I doubt it, I mean, at this point they know who I am, if they wanted to call the police believing I was doing a robbery they would have done it when we started seeing each other."Montparnasse uses his best smile. "The red haired girl who lives on the fourth floor let me enter the building because she recognized me, after all."

Even if it's logical and true, Jehan doesn't want to talk about robberies and police at the moment. "I should probably give you a copy of the keys, you spend more time here than at your house anyway." he considers serious. Finally he enters the kitchen and leave the cake on the table.

"Now, now, that's sound like a plan." Montparnasse agrees. Not that it's not a good... exercise, but really, he doesn't want to waste his ability to unlock his boyfriend's door. He follows the other, resting a hand on his back. "Do you forgive me?"

"No." Jehan replies turning to face the other. "You didn't kiss me hello yet."

"My bad." Montparnasse smiles before kissing the other.

Their welcome kiss are always gentle, Jehan once described them to be as soft as the wings of a butterfly, and that's the reason why they never changed, because every time they both think about that.

"Hello."

"Hello you." Jehan smiles happily, calm and relaxed. "Aren't you supposed to be working?" he inquires tilting his head to the right.

"I could ask the same to you." Montparnasse arches both eyebrow.

"I wanted to..." the poet stops, his eyes moving from his boyfriend to the other room where the table is already set. "Make you a surprise." he can't keep the delusion from his face.

"Oh." Montparnase says. When he entered and noticed the table, with flowers in the middle and candles ready to be lit, he thought it was sweet, he didn't think about the fact that he wasn't supposed to see it. "I've ruined everything, sorry."

"What? No, no!" Jehan says quickly, even if in part it's true. "It's not a big deal, it was for you, so it's logical you see it." he smiles. "So now you can decide if you want to cook with me or wait in the living room."

The younger laughs, pointing at something on the table, near the cake. "I actually bought dinner for both."

Jehan looks at the bags and his curiosity has the best of him: he opens one and peep inside. "No way." he murmurs when the scent of the food reaches his nostrils.

"You have been talking about wanting to try Thai food for a lifetime." Montparnasse shrugs. "But I also knew you wanted to have a nice night in, so takeaway it is."

"You are the best." Jehan says smiling and hugging the other. "I love you." he adds with a kiss.

The ease with which Jehan says it, always puts Montparnasse at unease. Not that Montparnasse never said it -or doesn't feel it- it's just that for Jehan is natural, too natural.   
Jehan wants to say it every day, every hour, every minute and Montparnasse is okay in saying it just once in a while.

"What if I say I also brought the Bright Star dvd?"   
"For real?"   
"Keats for you, Whishaw for me. It's a win-win situation."

They both laugh, arms still wrapped around each other and for a moment they remain that way, enjoying being together.

Until Jehan's phone buzzes. "Sorry." the poets says quickly, checking the text.

 **Courfeyrac** : Enjolras wants everybody at the Musain tomorrow. Are you in?

"Who is it?" Montparnasse asks, both almost jealous and worried about the frown on his boyfriend's face.

"Courfeyrac." Jehan says blankly.

 "Oh, so he's alive after all." the younger boy says coldly. "Told you not to worry."

"I always worry about friends who don't answers their phone." Jehan says texting back, quickly. Why he has a bad feeling? He's supposed to be happy to hear from his best friend again after almost a week.

 **Jehan:** Yes, of course! Will you be there?

 **Courfeyrac** : You know I can't skip a meeting, Enjolras would skin me and makes me into shoes.

 **Jehan:** Is that a BBC Sherlock quote?

 **Courfeyrac:** You got it! That's why you are my best friend! ;)

"Okay..." Montparnasse clear his throat to get Jehan's attention, who looks at him without stopping smiling at the display of his phone "I'll bring the food on the table... finish with Courfeyrac and join me?"

"Uh, yes. I'll be all yours in one minute." Jehan says simply.

Montparnasse sighs and reminds himself that he can't screw things up, that they are celebrating their six month anniversary and that he's actually happy because this is his longest relationship ( Eponine doesn't count, they have never been officially together for more than two months and half, even if their relationship started long before that. ) and that he's not jealous because Jehan is texting with Courfeyrac and he's ignoring him for two minutes.   
Bless Grantaire and his little speech.

 **Jehan:** Where have you been, anyway? You didn't text me back…

  **Courfeyrac** : Sorry, battery died, charger lost for few days  
 **Courfeyrac:** Grantaire gave me his and I found mine yesterday.

 **Jehan:** At least you found it :) Now I have to go, it's impolite to text on a date.

 **Courfeyrac:** Yes, it is. Have fun.

"Jehan!" calls Montparnasse from the living room. "Are you coming or do I have to eat all the food by myself?"

"You wouldn’t dare!" Jehan replies with a laugh, turning his phone off and forgetting it on the table.

 

* * *

 

"You are an asshole." Courfeyrac mutters, his head in his hands, his phone on the table next to him and a headache coming.

Combeferre doesn't pay too much attention to it. "Courf..."

"Why couldn't you text him about the meeting?" Courfeyrac asks looking at his friend standing in front of him. "Why Feuilly called _you_ if Jehan asked about me?"

"Because you are still his best friend." Combeferre sighs. "And Feuilly called my number because, I always pick up my phone, not like someone else in this room."

Courfeyrac, obviously guilty, shakes his head. "It's just that I may be ending doing something stupid, that's why I don't want to see him." he explains. "Too much. Yet." he adds in a whisper.

"But he wants to see you. You have to admit that we had no idea he was in a relationship even because he was spending the same amount of time with us. Most of the time people in a relationship forget about their friends, but not Jehan. You owe him it, Courf." Combeferre is definitely more calm, trying to put the situation in a rational view.

"Well, I texted him..and he's on a date! Perfect timing!"

That's the moment when Marius and Cosette make their appearance in the flat, laughing and giggling and kissing like two teenagers.

“Who's on a date?" asks Cosette blinking confused, her gaze stopping on Combeferre.

 "I convinced our broken hearted friend to send a text to Jehan." Combeferre explains quickly. "And Jehan is currently on a date."

"I see." Cosette says, at her side Marius groans and she squeezes his hand. "What about I make dinner for everyone? 'Ferre are you staying?"

The begging looks coming from both Courfeyrac(he really doesn't want to spend the night with two love birds in his house ) and Marius ( he really can't deal anymore with Courfeyrac's bad mood ) don't leave much choice, so Combeferre stays.

 "But you know, Courf..." Cosette starts making her way to the kitchen, dragging Marius behind her. "It was about time. You can't ignore Jehan forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should really make a scene where Marius is not an asshole who doesn't want to listen to Courfeyrac, really.  
> And I need to find a moment to make Parnasse and Eponine talk.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and the bookmarks!
> 
> As always...trust your writer, have no fear, you can always find me here (yeah, I am quoting Gavroche just to remind you that you can find me at drunkpylades on tumblr! )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Courfeyrac asks Combeferre to go out again, Montparnasse talks with Eponine, and Jehan asks Courfeyrac what's wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so short I am so so sorry, I'll push the storyline a little bit from now.
> 
> As always: no beta, all mistakes and typos are mine and the boys (and girls) doesn't belong to me.

It's actually early for the meeting ( or maybe Enjolras is starting to get always late because Grantaire refuses to make him go away and he can be very persuasive when he wants ) and yet, half of them are already at the Musain.

Eponine had no choice, she is there because she finished her shift and she has no time to go home and take a shower like she would like to do; Bahorel had nothing better to do so he arrived earlier just why-the-hell-no and he’s sending annoying text to Feuilly because it’s always funny to see the ginger getting mad and rant about how he hates to be disturbed at work, Joly has the night shift at the hospital so he decided there was no point in staying home; Marius and Courfeyrac are already there because Marius was so worried that Courfeyrac wouldn't leave the house at all, and Combeferre went to the café after classes, with his books behind him.

Since their leader (and his best friend) is nowhere to be seen, Combeferre is focused on the preparation of his speech, books over books on the table, opened to different topics: planning a future for the nation is not an excuse to not planning his own future, after all.

"Still working on that paper?" Courfeyrac asks peeping over Combeferre's shoulder. "Don't you ever get tired of studying?"

"Actually it's learning, not studying, which are two different things." Combeferre replies, his full attention on the notes he's writing down on a page already half-filled with frantic, small words.

"You still have time, give the books a break." Courfeyrac insists and, as he speaks, he pokes his friend's shoulder with a mug.

Combeferre looks at the mug suspiciously, but it looks like a peace offering, or even better, he can tell it's a silent way from Courfeyrac to thank him, so he just takes it. Eponine must be the one who made the drink, because the cappuccino has extra cocoa.

Courfeyrac sit on the chair next to the other, his own mug firmly in his hands. "So...I was thinking." he starts gingerly. "What you would say if I ask you again to go out drinking together?"

"I would ask you: _why me_?" Combeferre replies taking off his glasses, before the hot stream from the mug makes them blurry.

"Is that a no?" Courfeyrac pouts, looking like a sad puppy.

"Did I say no?" Combeferre point out simply.

"So it's a yes?" Courfeyrac smiles again.

"Not exactly." Combeferre sips the cappuccino slowly. "Why me? I mean, I am sure Grantaire will be more than happy to go with you, or even Eponine. Maybe Bahorel is free, you should check."

"Come on, 'Ferre!" Courfeyrac puts his mug on the table. "I need a friend! Grantaire's advice to the situation was to give me a beer and get drunk, Bahorel gives like zero fucks and Eponine...how am I supposed to pick up a girl if I am already with a girl?"

"You pick a boy?"

"Ah-ah, bloody ah, you're so funny." A moment of silence, a moment of waiting. "Look, I know I fucking let you down last time, but we had a good time. I need someone who doesn't over-react with me, okay? I need someone who can look at the situation with objectivity, who can keep me calm and, let's face it, you are the only one who can do it." Courfeyrac doesn't breath until he's not done saying what he wants to say, then he hold his breath a little more for the answer.

"Okay." Combeferre says skeptical, understanding the why  "When? And...do you really need go out drinking again? I thought you were feeling good Sunday."

 "I am feeling better, not good." Courfeyrac corrects moving his hands in the air. "It will take time to feel fine, but let's say... _la petit mort_ helps. It helps a lot." before the other can says something about it, he adds. "Tonight. You don't have classes until 'noon tomorrow, I checked."

"It's Thursday, nobody goes drinking on..." Combeferre sighs and drinks again, deciding that it was a smart move from Courfeyrac to give him the drink: it calms him, it force him to makes pauses even if he doesn't realize it until he does them. "You aren't feeling better, are you?"

"It's just that..." Courfeyrac shrugs, and looks at a book just to have his attention focused on something else. "I don't do serious relationships, you know it, but with Jehan..." he shakes his head. "I was so close to ask him out, 'Ferre, so damn close. I had all this damn scenarios in my mind…I wanted a future for us...I pictured our house, our bedroom...I even had the names for our stray cats. It takes time to deal with reality. I am so delusional."

Speaking of the devil, Courfeyrac catches a glimpse of Jehan and Montparnasse outside the café, thought the window. He watches them talking, walking close -but thanks God not hands in hands- as they reach for the main door.   
Reality sucks, in his mind the world was definitely better.

Combeferre looks at Courfeyrac, at the way all his good mood goes away, at the way he frowns, at the way he looks in physical pain.

"Fine." he says because he will never let down a friend in his life. "We'll go after the meeting, but we leave early, I _do_ have classes tomorrow." it's not enough to make Courfeyrac smiles again, though. "Go and greet him, Courf."

"He's coming here anyway." Courfeyrac protests.

"You can be so damn friendly to strangers but you can't be with your best friends? Go."

After a soft _'I hate you'_ , Courfeyrac moves.  
  
Eponine gives him two thumbs up from her seat next to Marius, who just smiles encouraging. Yeah, because that's going to help, of course.

"Hey!" Courfeyrac is surprised by his own excited tone -so similar to the one he always use- as he approaches the other two.

"Hi Courf!" Jehan replies, and nobody is really surprised by his happy smile.

As nobody is surprised by the simple nods that should be Montparnasse's greeting.

"Are you staying, Montparnasse?" Courfeyrac asks hoping that he's sounding curious, not irritated by the eventuality.

"Not much, I have to go to work.” the younger boy replies politely; he doesn't really care in changing the world. He focuses on Jehan, doing his best to pretend he didn't noticed the cold looks from the others, or Eponine.   
  
“Good, we are never enough for this kind of things.” Courfeyrac forces himself to smile.  
  
“Enjolras says it all the time.” Jehan nods with a small smile, then he turns his head to Montparnasse only to notice his boyfriend looking at Eponine. “Why don’t you talk to her?”

Montparnasse looks back at the poet and frowns. It’s not a bad idea, especially since there are other people, and yet he doesn’t think he should. “Jehan…”

“Say hi, just that. You promised.”

The younger boy is pretty sure he never promised, but if Jehan thinks so he knows better than to correct him. “You think k it’s a good idea?”

“Montparnasse.”

“Fine.”

Courfeyrac follow Montparnasse as he approaches the table with Eponine and Marius, and he’s almost going to follow him, but Jehan stops him.

“Courf, can we talk for a moment?” Jehan asks gently, his usual shyness completely gone from his eyes and replaced with concern.

“Yes, sure.” Courfeyrac nods, even if something about the poet’s expression makes him feel uncomfortable.

 

* * *

 

Marius doesn't even realize it, but he puts his arm around Eponine's shoulder as soon as Montparnasse approaches them, but Eponine doesn't filch, she keeps her eyes on the slim figure and she doesn't look more than bothered by the fact that her conversation with Marius has been interrupted.

"'Ponine." Montparnasse says. "Can we talk, dearie?"

Marius opens his mouth to protest, but Eponine stops him with a single look. "No, we can’t." she replies sharply.

From his spot, Bahorel looks at the trio, resisting his need to walk there and kick Montparnasse out of the Musain only because Combeferre is giving him a dangerous look.

"It's important." Montparnasse says again, a gentle tone that is already cracking. "Actually, it's only necessary."

"Piss off." Eponine sighs. "I don't want to talk with you." she adds honestly.

"For Jehan." the boy tries again.

Eponine frowns and looks at Montparnasse: she really doesn't want to do this, not when Grantaire is not around, but she doesn't want to do this when everyone is already here either.

When the girl stands up, Marius looks up at her in disbelief. "'Ponine, no..." he mutters, the words barely coming out from his mouth.

"You have five minutes of my time, no more." Eponine warns.

Montparnasse elegantly bows his head and smiles. "I will not take more than four." because the last thing he wants to do is waste time with Eponine.

"Yeah, whatever." Eponine whispers leading the way to the back exit that she usually uses to smoke a cigarette during breaks.

As soon as they are out, Eponine crosses her arms on her chest and looks at Montparnasse. "So, what do you want to say?"

"Chérie, this is not going to work." Montparnasse warns, his voice warm enough to keep the other at ease.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" Eponine asks arching perfectly both eyebrows.

"No, and neither I do." the boy shrug. "But Jehan does, and for his sake we should try to be polite to each other." the last part of the phrase is said with a grimace that, for few seconds, disturb the symmetry of his face. "He really wants me to be part of your little group of friends and he doesn't want awkward moments between us, so..."

"I have the perfect idea." Eponine says with a grin, her hand already on the doorknob. "You don't talk to me, I don't talk to you, we avoid each other completely and we live happily, mh?"

"That would do." Montparnasse nods, his hand covers the girls'. "Wait a bit, are you so willing to go back there?"

Eponine takes a deep breath, turns her head slowly towards the other and wait for a moment before speaking, fighting the urge to take her hand away. She is not scared, she will not show weakness. "Yes, I am, we are done here."

"Azelma misses you." Montparnasse says after a long moment. "You should call her or something."

"No." Eponine says with decision. She left her past behind her years ago, she will not run back to that life or her family, not even to Azelma who was too young and naive to actually do any harm.

"She's your sister." Montparnasse tries again, almost annoyed. When Eponine left, Azelma was the one that suffered from it the most, because she felt betrayed and somehow she decided that Montparnasse was the right surrogate for a missing sister.

They are still near the door, Montparnasse's hand is still covering Eponine's and they seems frozen in that position.

"She was." Eponine replies. "I don't care about my family anymore, 'Parnasse." when the name slips from her, the girl sighs: no, this shouldn't happen, this is too familiar and this reminds her for a time when she called him like that and she wants to forget. She wants to forget her family, her sister, her past, everything.

"Now I ask myself: do my presence bother you so much because I am who I am..." Montparnasse leans over Eponine just a little, as he brush a lock of her hair from her face. "...or because I remind you of your past?"

Eponine jerks away. "Both, actually." she says. "You are an asshole from my past, the worst combination ever."

Montparnasse chuckles. "I've always appreciated your humor, my dear." he ignores the look coming from the girl.

"You had very strange way to show appreciation, then." Eponine challenges.

"There were things I didn't appreciate that much." Montparnasse shrugs.

"Are you ever going to apologize?" Eponine asks harshly.

"I thought we were even." Montparnasse looks at the girl confused.

No, they are not even and they will never be even, because Montparnasse is the reason why Eponine has still trust issues, or why she doesn’t do relationships.

"You are an asshole, for real." Eponine shakes her head. She starts to feel claustrophobic even if they are outside, she has to go back inside, among her friends, where she is safe and happy. "Don't try to do to Jehan what you did to me, okay? I was screwed up enough, so it's not a big deal but him..."

"Can you and R stop threatening me, please?" Montparnasse interrupts. "All you care about is Jehan, and guess what? I care about him too!"

"Well sorry if you are not the most trustable guy in the world!"

"Grantaire is a drunken, he barely graduated from college, he smokes weed, he did drugs, and yet he's your best friend and you are all happy because he's dating Enjolras." the boy lists coldly, his voice raising.

 "It's different..." Eponine says, her voice raising to match the boy's. "Don't you dare...Grantaire is a fucking good person!"

"Yes, he is, but we both have flaws, 'Ponine, okay? I am trying to not put them on Jehan as much as I can, I am trying to be someone worth his time and you guys are not helping." Montparnasse explains. "I did nothing, I'll do nothing, relax."

Eponine laughs for few seconds, shaking her head. "Oh my God, you think I'm buying it?" she gives to the boy one of her piercing looks that she was forced to use around her family to have a little bit of freedom. "I know you, I know where you come from, I know what you do and I know that you will not stop because if you wanted to, you would have done it when I turned my back to that fucked up life." she stops for a second. "No, Montparnasse, I don't buy it, and I will not pretend I am fine, because I am not."

In that exact moment the door opens and Grantaire looks at the two for a long moment, trying to understand the atmosphere. "Everything's fine?" he asks cautious.

"Yes." Montparnasse and Eponine replies at the same time, both quickly and sharply, more than happy to end the conversation there.

Grantaire doesn't believe them, of course, and the sensation of déjà-vu doesn't help. It's like they are back to their late teen orearly twenties when Montparnasse and Eponine were together and Grantaire used to catch them having a little bit of argument, or angry making out with few clothes on.

"Well, Enjolras' here, he wants to start the meeting, but Marius is dead worried and Jehan misses his boyfriend, so before Enjolras goes into a tantrum phase come back inside" Grantaire explains. "And I hate when my boyfriend goes into a tantrum phase."

Eponine and Montparnasse moves back inside and Grantaire watches them for a moment, asking himself how long it will take before hell break loose between them.

 

* * *

 

“Is everything fine, Courf?” Jehan asks serious

"Why are you askig?" Courfeyrac can't hide his surprise at the question.  
  
"You went in radio silence for almost a week. Before you ask, no I don't buy the excuse you gave me yesterday." Jehan bits his bottom lip and takes Courfeyrac hand in his, nothing romantic of course, a gesture of solidarity. "I don't want to know why you lied, I am sure you had your reasons because otherwise you would never do it, not to me. Just tell me that you are all right, please, I am worried about you."

This is exactly the reason why Courfeyrac is love with Jehan:  it’s Jehan’s empathy, it’s the way he understands with all his heart and never question, it’s the fact that he’s the gentlest creature on Earth, it’s the way his eyes are able to see beyond the lies, it’s the way his voice speaks to the soul with kind words.

Of course, Courfeyrac has to lie again, because he can't say the truth to Jehan and it sucks, because they never had secrets, but he has no other choices.

"Yes, I am...no I am not alright." he says trying to avoid the voices screaming in head making him notice that they are holding hands. "It's just that with Enjolras and Grantaire finally together, Marius and Cosette more in love than ever... and now you and Montparnasse..." he stops to build up the lie in his mind before saying it. "I am starting to think that there is must something wrong with me because I seem not able to have a proper relationship."

Jehan's face lightens up, even if he looks sadder, it's a strange thing: he's relieved because his best friends finally talked to him, but he's also sad for him. "Oh, Courfeyrac..." he says gently. "There is nothing wrong with you! You are the funniest guy I ever met, and you are always there for your friends, you have a great sensibility, you are always happy, and well, you are definitely good looking.  But love...love don't come so easily, you must be patient."

So Jehan noticed all his good qualities...and he's still not enough?

Courfeyrac forces himself to smile. "Thank you." he can't say anything else.

 "Don't worry, one day you'll find your right person too. Here, something to cheer you up." Jehan takes one of his bracelets off -one with a single yellow star made of who knows what material- and closes it around Courfeyrac's wrist. "Can you smile for me now?"

Courfeyrac looks at the thin bracelets around his wrist, and he's sure he can remember buying it with Jehan one rainy afternoon because the poet thought that finding something so bright in a grey day was amazing. So Courfeyrac smiles a real smile, and Jehan smiles too.

"Your right person will be amazing and worth the waiting, I promise!"

Courfeyrac thinks that yes, his right person is indeed amazing, as his right person walks away from him to join the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uhm yeah, I admit that the ending was bittersweet, sorry.
> 
> You can always find me @ drunkpylades on tumblr!
> 
> A special thanks to Nana because she helped me a lot with this chapter (and the fic in general) and she's amazing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which Courfeyrac brings coffee to Jehan but finds Montparnasse, Jehan invites Courfeyrac out, Montparnasse finally understands what's wrong with Courfeyrac, Feuilly is forced to help Bahorel, Jehan quotes Shakespeare to a singer, Feuilly is the first person to see Bahorel fights, Montparnasse is stopped by the police and Courfeyrac is disappointed, Jehan and Montparnasse have an argument._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long.  
> No beta, as always. I'm watching King Arthur (gosh Hugh and Mads) so I'm more distracted than usually while re-reading...so...as always, sorry.
> 
> Thank you everyone who commented or left kudos, and to all the nice person who helps me when I rant on tumblr (you are the best and I love you with all my heart full of love)
> 
> PS: for a better description of Jehan's flower shop, you should read [My Heart Leaps Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/771886). Of course in this universe Jehan and Courfeyrac never kissed and Jehan has no idea of Courfeyrac's feelings for him.

When Courfeyrac enters the flower shop with Starbucks coffees (because come on, it's November and it's late afternoon, even Jehan deserve a break from work) he's not ready to the sight that welcomes him.

He's used to see Musichetta behind the desk, her hair wild and full of flowers just like the poet, but he's not used to see Montparnasse annoyed like few people can be annoyed.

For a moment the two boys looks at each other over a vase full of peonies.

More like for a minute.

Good things there are no customers to witness it.

"Ehm..." Courfeyrac clears his throat awkwardly. "Where's Jehan?"

"Home." Montparnasse says straightening his back. "A little girl has poured her chocolate milk all over Jehan's pants and shoes, so he went for a change of clothes."

 "Oh." Courfeyrac nods, looking awkwardly around. "And you are..."

"Looking after at the shop while he's not here. Musichetta has a cold and Joly forbidden her to come work." the younger boy explains simply. He nods at the drinks. "Break time?"

"What...?Ah, yes, yes." Courfeyrac nods. "Aren't you supposed to work in a motel, by the way?" he asks cautious. Not that he minds to see Montparnasse here (no okay, he definitely minds. This place belongs to Jehan -hell, the walls are full of poetry quotes that Jehan himself wrote - and it's his safe place when the world sucks so, yes he minds and a lot.) but he's curious. If they are even working together...

"They'll not miss me." Montparnasse shrugs, the rests his elbow on the desk and smiles. "Business is not that good and I'd rather stay here."

"Yeah, I bet." Courfeyrac put the drinks on the desk and looks at the other for a moment. "How things are going between you two?"

"Good, thank you." is a quick answer, probably too quick and too confident.

Courfeyrac, not finding a good conversation topic (maybe he won't find one) looks around at the various quotes, trying to keep his mind occupied, until he notice a new quote.

_Sweet girl ! though only once we met / That meeting I shall ne'er forget; / And though we ne'er may meet again, / Remembrance will thy form retain;_

Courfeyrac remembers exactly what quote was in the place of that one, so he stares at it asking himself when Jehan changed it.

Montparnasse notices the look on the other and turns to the quote, not able to stop the little smile on his face.

"That's not Wordsworth." Courfeyrac whispers. "What the hell is that?"

"Byron." Montparnasse replies. "We painted it two weeks ago, Jehan decided it deserved the spotlight."

Exactly what Jehan thought of the first lines of _My Heart Leaps Up_ by Wordsworth, exactly the reason why years ago, Jehan and Courfeyrac and Grantaire spent an afternoon with stencils and painting.

"I don't see why, I liked the other better."

"Because it's the poem he quoted me the first time we met."

Courfeyrac is not sure what he expected; it's logical that Jehan wants something like that in his shop, and yet he feel...betrayed.

The rainbow that Grantaire painted -good times when he was still not too drunk to hold a brush and do his job- is still there with his bright colors, but the quote is gone.

The quote that Jehan and Courfeyrac wrote together has been replaced by a quote that Jehan and Montparnasse wrote together.

Yes, he's taking it personally, even if he knows that he has no right (especially because the same quote is on the wall to his right, but he haven't seen it yet.) and the arrogant expression on Montparnasse's face doesn't help him.

Jehan shows up few minutes later, wearing a green and orange sweater that it's two size too big and a pair of white jeans with hand-drawn Mehndi design.

Maybe it's only Montparnasse's imagination, but he's sure that Courfeyrac looks like someone who just had a vision, not like someone who just saw his best friend.

"Courf!" Jehan says surprised and happy to see his best friend. "That's a beautiful surprise!" he says throwing his arms around his best friend and kissing him on the cheek.

"Thought you would love a break." Courfeyrac says, pointing at the drinks on the desk "Probably they are cold by now..."

"I am sorry I am late, then" Jehan says honestly. "But I do appreciate you had the idea! You are the best friend in the world!" he kisses Courfeyrac's cheek once again before letting him go.  
He greets Montparnasse in the same way, knowing too well than trying to kiss him in the shop (God forbid! What if some costumers enters in the same moment when they are kissing? ). "Have you been good to our guest?"

"You should ask our guest." Montparnasse replies blankly, his gaze upon said guest.

"He did nothing wrong, I may come back to the shop next time." Courfeyrac jokes. Well, things could have been worse for sure.

"Oh that's a relief, we do need costumers." Jehan says smiling. "Oh can you help me with a box, Courf? It's on the top shelf in the back and I can't get it."

Courfeyrac nods with a smile and follows the poet in the back of the shop, leaving Montparnasse in charge once again.  

"That one." Jehan points at a box clearly out of his reach. "A bird told me that you are going out with Combeferre, is that true?"

Courfeyrac, who is taller than Jehan, needs anyway to get on his tiptoe to reach the box. "A bird? What are you? Snow White?"

"Oh come on, don't be so smart." Jehan laughs. "You know what I mean."

"I bet the bird is called Grantaire." Courfeyrac shakes his head as he takes the box down.

"No, it's called Enjolras. He called me few days ago because he was desperate: apparently Grantaire is ready to kill you because you decided to go out with Combeferre instead of him for more than one month." the poet corrects, taking the box from Courfeyrac's hands and putting on a table.

"Thank you for the warning." Courfeyrac arches an eyebrow. "I should really talk with R."

"Can I ask you why you are going out with Combeferre, now?" Jehan search for something in the box, his attention focused in the little object inside. "It's not really the kind of person who loves to go out drinking, not as much as Bahorel or Eponine."

"Well, he is a good company." Courfeyrac shrugs, interested in the way that Jehan's braid fall in a soft way on his right shoulder.

"About that..." Jehan says so softly that he's not sure the other can hear him. "I think I owe you an apology." he turns his head towards his best friend. "I've been neglecting our friendship lately."

"Jehan..." Courfeyrac starts worried. If someone have been neglecting their friendship, it’s him with his stupid behavior.

"So I wanted to ask you if you want to come with me this weekend to a new place, it's called _Nosferatu_ , they do live music and the singer is an angel, you should really hear her, her voice is a warm hug for the spirit." Jehan suggests with a big grin that doesn't accept a no as answer. "What do you think?"

Courfeyrac smiles. "I think that the place must be weird with a name like that."

"Come on, I am serious! Can you leave Combeferre alone for one night and come with me?"

"Sure thing." Courfeyrac replies, then he frowns. "I am not going out with Combeferre that much anyway, stop talking like he's my shadow or something like that." he's not even sure.   
  
Yes, they have been out a lot lately, just like when they were in high school, but not that much.  
  
“Yes, you are.” Jehan says amused.  “You have been out only with him for a whole month.”

 

Montparnasse keeps an eye of the back room, looking at Jehan and Courfeyrac, more because he's bored that anything.

The shop is quiet and he doesn't love flowers as much as Jehan does ( not that anybody could love flowers as much as Jehan loves them, to be fair.) and there is something about Courfeyrac he can't quite understand.

He's charming, full of energy, he saw him makes a lot of jokes when he was with the other friends, he knows from Jehan that he's a very supportive friends...and yet Courfeyrac seems to not like him.

Which is explained from the way that Courfeyrac is looking at Jehan; again like if he's some sort of vision or angel on Earth.

Suddenly everything is crystal clear. Montparnasse chuckles and takes out his phone, strangely amused when he was ready to feel jealous, or angry, or bothered.

**Montparnasse:** You should have told me about Courfeyrac, R.

**Grantaire:** I have no idea what are you talking about.

**Montparnasse:** He likes Jehan.

**Grantaire:** Who told you?

**Montparnasse:** Please, I recognize a crush when I see one.

**Grantaire:** Don't tell Jehan, he doesn't know. And don't do something stupid.

**Montparnasse:** You are such a good friend, R, always worried.

**Grantaire** : Fuck you, 'Parnasse, I am serious. Don't screw everything up. It's only a crush.

**Montparnasse:** As long as I am the one in Jehan's bed, Courfeyrac can swoon all he likes.

**Grantaire:** ...how the fuck someone like you get with someone as poetic as Jehan?

**Montparnasse:** My good looking, I presume.

**Grantaire:** I have lost my faith in the world.

**Montparnasse:** You can't lost something you don't have.

**Grantaire:** Touché

* * *

 

The sugar flower is a fragile tiny red thing in Feuilly's hands, and the phone buzzing in his pocket doesn't help him to put it on the cake in the right place; whoever is calling him is going to be so sorry in the next few minutes, he swear.

 

"Isn't this adorable?" Camille asks looking at the cake, another flower in her hands; she's has been in the shop as long as Feuilly and he particularly likes her, especially because she's always in a good mood. "I want a cake like this for my birthday."

 

"Then call Eugénie and tell her today, because we are booked with cakes until march." Gabriel replied, checking that the flowers are in the right place. Feuilly owe everything to Gabriel, because he was the one suggesting that he could work on the cakes between a delivery and the other, and he's also the one who stayed after the closing to teach him a trick or two.

 

 Of course, Feuilly learned everything quickly enough to make Gabriel proud of his decision.

 

The phone keep on buzzing in his pocket and Feuilly curses between his teeth, because he should really just shut it down, even if he knows emergency can happen at any time.

 

"Feuilly could make me one!" Camille protests. "After the working hours, to exercise."

 

"Sorry, but I work, after working hours." Feuilly replies, a half-smile on his face. This reminds him that if they don't finish the cake soon, he will not have time to go to his house before going to the gas station.

 

"Plus, he doesn't need to exercise anymore, he's as skilled as you are and it took him half of the time." Gabriel jokes, but he's serious. "Actually, using him for deliveries is becoming a waste."

 

Feuilly raises an eyebrow and looks at Gabriel confused. "I am the best delivery boy you ever had."

 

"Yeah, and also a goddamn good artist. You are not telling me you want to go around Paris and delivers cakes for the rest of your life, I hope."

 

Hell no, of course he doesn't want to. To be honest he doesn't even know if he wants to make cakes for the rest of his life either, but he must admits that he likes creates something, he likes the idea that he can forge flowers or feather or seashells or jewels from sugar; it's a good way to let free his artistic side.

 

 "If I can choose, no." Feuilly replies cautious, Camille looks at him almost ready to explode from the happiness in her eyes.

 

"Good." that's all Gabriel says. The subject his dropped as it was raised and that's okay, probably.

 

Another pair of flowers and the cake is done and Feuilly must admits, it looks amazing. Maybe he will really make Camille the cake, as present.

 

 "Sorry, I have to pick up this call, whoever it is, is being insistent." Feuilly excuses himself and he's quickly out of the shop, in the small street on the back. He looks at the display and curses again before answering. "Bahorel, you better have a fucking good reason, you called me twenty times in the past ten minutes, I almost drop two flowers."

 

"Good to hear you too, man." Bahorel waits before adding. "I know you are working, but..."

 

 "I don't like that 'but'." Feuilly says harshly, more because he realized too late that it's November and he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a red apron and he's freezing.

 

"My car died, in the middle of fucking nowhere." Bahorel says ignoring whatever tone the other is using. "And tonight I have a match, I tried to call the others, but Joly is working all night, and Bossuet is bringing Musichetta to the theater, Marius and Cosette have a family dinner with the Valjeans and..."

 

"Bahorel I can't." Feuilly hates to say it, but it's true.

 

"I know, I know! That's why you are the last I called." Bahorel rush. "It's an important match, Feuilly, my trainer said that some people -important people- are interested and...I mean, if they come tonight to see me and I am not there? Please?"

 

 Feuilly runs an hand in his hair, remembering too late that his fingers are full of sugar and flour: he knows how Bahorel is trying to move to the next level in the MMA world; even if he never let anyone see him fight he knows he's good and that he deserve his chances..."I hate you so fucking much."

 

"Is that a 'yes I will rescue you coming on a white horse' ?" there is only hope in Bahorel's voice.

 

"Yeah, it is. But you pay for the fuel." Feuilly answers annoyed.

 

"Deal. I owe you one, Feully, thanks.." Bahorel gives him indication of where he is and Feuilly realizes that he will have to call his boss -the other one- in the car if he wants Bahorel to arrive at the place in time for the match. He can only hope nobody will notice the flour in his hair.

 

* * *

 

"I told you she was an angel!" Jehan says happily once they are out of the local, a blue neon signboard behind them. "It's a shame she's confined in this little place with a crowd that doesn't appreciate her."

Courfeyrac rubs his hands together trying to heat them up. "You appreciated her enough, I would say. You quoted her Shakespeare as soon as the song was finished."

"Have you seen her?" Jehan looks outraged. "She was the exact living form of Shakespeare's Dark Lady! And she appreciated it."

"She did, indeed." Courfeyrac smiles. It has been a remarkable moment, after the last song, Jehan stood up and started to declaim the sonnet with everybody looking at him. The singer, dark skin and auburn hair and small eyes, looked at the poet with the most shocked face and smiled a warm smile and laughed leaving the stage. "Do you want to go home now?"

"Yes." the poets nods. "The shop doesn't run itself." he has the time to say before his phone start ringing. He excuses himself and step a little away from Courfeyrac. "Parnasse? Yes, we are...what? What for this...actually don't tell me, I'll be there as soon as possible."

Courfeyrac listens and notices the lost look on the poet's face. "Jehan? What's wrong?"

"Courf..." Jehan looks at his best friend who is already moving closer to him, worried (he never wanted Courfeyrac to get worried.) "I have to go to the police station, of course I'll bring you home first...."

"Why? What happened?" Courfeyrac is next to Jehan, and for some reason he bring the other in an awkward half hug.

"They arrested 'Parnasse. Again."

_Again_ doesn't sound good to Courfeyrac, but he's not going to say it, not when Jehan looks like he's going to cry or faint. "Let's go." he says simply, dragging Jehan gently to the car. "I'll drive, and no shut up, I'm coming with you."

Jehan nods and gives the keys to Courfeyrac, grateful not to be alone like the last time.

 

* * *

 

Bahorel is a nervous wreck when they arrive at the sports arena, not knowing if he will be watched tonight or not. If he could only know what's going on in his career he would really appreciate it, but his coach is silent and he's going mad.

Feuilly looks at his friend and frowns. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Me? No." Bahorel shakes his head. "A little bit of nervousness is good, though, keeps you focused."

Feuilly nods, more curious about the changes in Bahorel's attitude now that they are there; he doesn't recognize the little frown on his face that makes him look murderous, or the way his jaw clench, or the long step that he uses.

Well, it's all Bahorel fault, because in years of MMA he never let his friends come to a match, so Feuilly can't recognize the boy he's walking with.

He knows enough about how Bahorel entered MMA: since he have always been a troubled kid, ready to pick up a fight after school, one his teacher suggested him to use his strength -to focus it- in a real fight, and then Bahorel joined his first gym, starting with kickboxing, then thai and a lot of other stuff, without finding one good enough; and then he ended up in the MMA and everything started making sense and, for what everyone realized, he was a very well known name in the environment.

"Hey, Steph!" Bahorel called to one guy near a door with a friendly tone. "Do me a favor and find my buddy here a seat, mh?"

_'Steph'_ looks at Feuilly and for a moment he just do that, and Feuilly doesn't understand why.

"You know, people usually buy tickets." Steph says.

"Yeah, but he saved my ass bringing me here, and he's my ride back home, so while he waits, he can enjoy the show, mh?"

Feuilly is almost going to say that he can wait in the car, or go somewhere else in the meanwhile, but then...it's probably his only chance to see Bahorel in action and, since he's here, he can wait.

"We all hate you, 'Orel." says Stephen rolling his eyes but not really meaning his words. "I'll see what I can do."

"Hey, Feuilly." Bahorel calls and he does that smirk that Feuilly knows too well. "I am expecting you to keep your eyes open, I want an honest judgment later."

"I'll be ruthless, don't worry." Feuilly promises before Steph brings him away.

Steph is not the most friendly person in the world and Feuilly he's sure is tolerating this only for Bahorel's sake and he's not sure if he likes it.

The arena (is he supposed to call it like that? Why Bahorel never explained things clearly to them?) is just a big space with a cage in the middle and chairs all around. Steph pushes him in the back rows with a death glare that speaks "don't fucking move from here or breath or I'll kill you."

 Feuilly shrugs and let it go and looks around: everyone is there because they wants to be there, not because some asshole of friends asked for a favor, and they all looks excited and happy and having a good time. Maybe it will not be that bad, if Bahorel made this is life...

 When the show starts (show? is this a show if it's not in TV or...? ) Feully changes his mind immediately.

What's so great about two half-naked guys beating each other in a steel cage? Yet, everyone around him seems to find this amusing and exciting.

Where the hell is he? He will kill Bahorel as soon as he can escape from this stupid thing.

A girl, blonde curly hair, brown eyes and absolutely no make up on, turns around and winks at Feuilly with such innocence that the ginger boy smiles a little without realizing it.   
Two matches later a boy, who is actually sitting few seats to Feuilly's right, stands up to go who-the-hell-knows-where and when he returns smiles at him brushing a hand over his arm and Feuilly doesn't know how to react for a good minute.

Again, where the hell is he? The things is gay enough without boys hitting on him (which doesn't help the mess in his head ) and he only wishes this to end as soon as possible. He misses the smell of gasoline on his dress at the moment.

Not that he's bored, there is something interesting about the rules or the way that the cage's wall move when bodies slams against them, the people are cheering and making a good noise, it's just that it's not his world.

Bahorel's match is not the main event, even if is close enough, and Feuilly is almost ready to sing for the joy because at least it will see something interesting.

When Bahorel arrives, though, Feuilly thinks two thing: first: since when Bahorel has a tattoo on his lower back? two: since when Bahorel is so damn fit?

The second one, though, keeps his mind more occupied. to be honest. It's not a bad sight, to be honest, he's all muscles, no fat, strong shoulders...but that's it.

With the mess in his head about Bahorel, Feuilly thought that watching him half naked ( okay, the second year of college they went to the beach, and Bahorel was in shape, but not like this.) would bother him a little more.   
It’s not like he's thinking about how hard that muscles would be under his touch, or he wants to know how it feels to be pinned against a wall by Bahorel (maybe this one, yes, but only for few seconds) , so this means that his crush is nothing serious, just a very - _very_ \- deep affection for his best friend.

No sexual feeling, so he must be safe.

He relaxes and enjoy the match with a half smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

Montparnasse is bored, the handcuffs are too tight and they took Babet to question him about half an hour ago earlier and everyone else seems to just ignore him. He hates when this happens, when the police catch him and force him to waste hours of his life in a neon lighted room as they try to find the perfect excuse to lock his ass in jail.

That's not going to happen, he's sure, not this time. It's all Babet fault, that stupid ignorant freak, and he will pay for it, not him.

When he finally sees Jehan walking towards him the deja-vu sensation is a bad one. They already did this and he promised that this wasn't going to happen again, but it happened again and he's more guilty for this than for the reason why he's sitting on a chair in handcuffs.

"What happened?" Jehan asks quickly, his breath short, his eyes moving from Montparnasse's face ( it's a good thing that he has no bruises, not like the last time.) to his hands and the pair of metal handcuffs. He doesn't like what he sees. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. They believed I was dealing drugs, but they knows that the weed I had was for personal use. It wasn't enough to deal it." Montparnasse explains with a cold tone.

"That's ridicolous-" Jehan starts, not question why his boyfriend had weed with him.

"That' pretentious. They want to find an excuse to put me in a cell." Montparnasse shrugs. "They always do."

"The legally can't. They will let you go soon, they just want to get to your nerves. Do you know how many times they stopped Enjolras and let him go in few hour?"

"How many?"

"Eleven, always after a protests. They'll let you go."

"I hope so, Babet is being questioned, I doubt he'll be as lucky as me.”

"Was he...?" Jehan asks and the looks from Montparnasse speaks louder than words. "Al right."

Montparnasse changes quickly subject -not that they can do anything now- "How was the night with Courfeyrac?"

"Delightful." Jehan smiles and sits next to Montparnasse. "He's outside, he didn't let me come here alone."

"I am really sorry." Montparnasse says and, with some difficult, he takes one of Jehan's hand in his. "At last it's not 4 am."

"Absolutely! That time was worse." Jehan laughs despite everything, but it's a quick laugh, too cold to be a real one.

"Are you angry?" Montparnasse asks knowing too well the answer.

"Yes. But it's not the time or place to fight." Jehan replies, his good mood gone for good. He's not even trying to pretend he's not bothered by the situation. He's worried, yes, but he's also disappointed.

Courfeyrac joins them, and when he sees Montparnasse he shakes his head, showing his own disappointment in the situation. "You are lucky, they'll let you go now." he announces without enthusiasm. "They will arrest Babet, or so I believe."

"Better him than me." Montparnasse says unimpressed.

"He's supposed to be your friend." Jehan points out frowning.

"Supposed, exactly."

An officer arrives to free Montparnasse and he does his duty making clear that he doesn't agree in letting him go. "Stay out of trouble." he warns.

"Of course, officer." Montparnasse shows one of his best charming and mocking smiles and rubs his wrist, enjoying the sensation finally being free. The first thing he does with his hand free, is to reach for Jehan, but the poet moves away.

"I'll wait you outside." Jehan says under his breath, walking away from the dark-haired boy; when he passes by Courfeyrac he doesn't stop, not even when he feels his hand brushes against his arm.

Montparnasse watches as Jehan walks away, then his eyes, cold as ice, rests on Courfeyrac. "Thank you for bringing him here."

"What's the hell is wrong with you?" Courfeyrac asks, his voice raising now that Jehan cannot hear them. The only answer he receives is an arched eyebrow and a confused look. "Does this happen often? Do you like to get arrested?"

"No, I don't like it." Montparnasse sighs. "But it happens even to the best person: even Jehan has been stopped once."

"Yes I know, I shared the cell with him." Courfeyrac replies.

"Ah, must be a bright memory for the darkest nights..."

And then Courfeyrac knows that Montparnasse knows, because the bastard is smirking and challenging him with his eyes, waiting for something to happen.

"I don't like you, Montparnasse." instead he says calmly.

"I don't like you either, Courfeyrac." Montparnasse shrugs. "I tolerate you only because of Jehan, and for you it's the same. So let's do a favor to Jehan and end the conversation here."

They walk out of the police station in complete silence, somehow relieved that they don't have to pretend anymore to like each other.

"Now, Monsieur, we go home and we'll have a long talk." Jehan starts, then he looks at Courfeyrac and smiles. "Of course, we'll bring you home first..."

"No, don't worry, you have to sort things out...I'll call Marius." Courfeyrac says quickly.

"I am sorry, I really am. Thank you for the night...and well, everything." Jehan hugs quickly his best friend.

"You are not the one that should be sorry." Courfeyrac points out looking at a Montparnasse

"I am not going to apologize to you." Montparnasse warns calm, waiting by the car.

Jehan doesn't say a thing, instead he just take Montparnasse by one arm and drags him along until he forces him into the car, then he looks back to Courfeyrac. "I'll call you tomorrow." and he enters in the car.

Courfeyrac waves goodbye, watches as the car disappear and sighs a he takes out his phone from the pocket of his coat. He’s going to freeze and die, he’s sure of it.

“’Ferre?” he says hoping that his voice shows how sorry he is. “Can you come and get me? It’s a long story, but if I walk home I’ll probably freeze and die half way and you don’t want my death on your conscience.”

 

* * *

 

When they arrived, the flat is dark, silent and filled with the November's chill air.

"Jehan..." Montparnasse starts, finding the silence between them unbearable.

"Don't say a word." Jehan hisses switching on the lights as he moves inside his flat.

"Don't be so angry..." the younger boy starts, following the other around. When Jehan stops to breath and calm down, he hug him from behind and places a kiss to the side of his neck. "I can explain."

"Then do it, please, because I don't understand." Jehan moves away and turn to face his boyfriend. "Why were you doing drug dealing with Babet?"

"I wasn't, he was. I was just there keeping him company." Montparnasse says. "And he kept company to me, since you were out with Courf..."

"So now this happened because I was out with Courfeyrac for one night?" Jehan arches both his eyebrow curious.

"Of course not." Montparnasse says quickly. "The point is that I wasn't dealing the drugs, okay? I wasn't, that's all that matters."

Jehan takes a slow breath. "Like the last time when you were only forcing the window open, but not entering the house...?" he asks with a blank tone, which shows exactly how angry he is.

"Jehan." Montparnasse sighs and moves closer so he can rests his hands on the other's shoulders "You know, we talked about this. You asked and I answered, even if it was a bad idea. You know."

Jehan bows his head and looks at his feet in silence. Yes, he knows, but he never said he was okay with it. "Help me, Parnasse." he whispers looking up. "Because I am confused. The boy I fell in love with is so different from the boy I saw at the police station and the one is standing in front of me now."

Montparnasse's hands moves to cup Jehan's face, caressing his neck in the motion, he leans forward. "The boy you fell in love with exists only with you and for you, Jehan, he would die in my world. I had a life before meeting you, a fucking horrible one, this is who I have always been. Can you accept it?"

 Jehan's smile is a sad one. "Do I have any choice?" he asks shaking his head. If he doesn't accept it, he will lose Montparnasse and the idea takes his breath away in a painful way. "You are like Dorian Gray: a beautiful, full of potential, young man whom soul was corrupted to the very core. You lost yourself in the way, in the world, but I still see the sparkle of who you were in your eyes."

"If I'm Dorian, who are you?" Montparnasse asks curious, intrigued by the similitude. He has to admit it fits.

"I'm Basil." the poet laughs. "Jealous to show you to the world, in love with what you represent and what you are, but unable to protect you from the world."

"Only, you have words and not brushes." Montparnasse actually tries to joke, everything to ease the tension between them, everything to just wipe away the gloom on Jehan's face.

"I have words." Jehan agrees. He rests his hands over Montparnasse's and for a moment he thinks about leave them were they are, but in the end he pushes them away. "So listen to me, 'Parnasse, please. What happened tonight must never happen again."

"I'll try not to get caught, I hate when it happens anyway, so..."

"No." Jehan says sharply. "You are going to stop with the robberies, and the drug dealing and whatever you do with your gang."

After a moment of silence, Montparnasse throw his head back and laughs. "So here we are!" he asks moving around the living room with his arms open. "You say you love me, but suddenly you are not okay with who I am."

"I'm not okay with going to the police station because you have been stopped!" Jehan doesn't even realize he's shouting, probably it's a response to the other's laugh. "I'm not okay with seeing you in handcuffs. I'm not okay in feeling....this!"

"What are you angry about?" Montparnasse asks, calm once again. "It's my life, it's me who risks to go to jail , not you. My wrists have bruises, not yours."

"You don't see it, do you?" Jehan sits on the couch with a sigh and cover his face with one hand collecting his thoughts. "Tonight you were lucky, and two months ago. But what if they arrest you? Don't you think about me?" he asks with his fingers nervously undoing his braid. "How can I survive without you? 'Parnasse you are not alone, not anymore! You life is not your own, whatever happens to you affect me!"

Montparnasse stays silent as Jehan stands up and moves towards him. Even if he would say something, he doesn't know what would make Jehan feel better.

"If you love me...if you really love me, you would understand and know that I would not be able to survive. If they lock you away, I will be nothing but a flower withering between the pages of past and future, waiting for you to come back to me, not living the present." Jehan stops when gentle fingers touches his cheek. "Don't do this to me, please."

"What I did to deserve you?" Montparnasse asks to himself. "Only God knows how can you love me."

"But I do and that's all that matters." Jehan says. "Promise me, Parnasse. Promise me you'll find a proper job, that you'll leave everything behind you and that you will stay with me. Please."

 Montparnasse wraps his arms around Jehan in a tight hug. "Can I promise I will be very cautious..."

"Montparnasse." Jehan snaps back, his voice muffled against Montparnasse's shirt. He waits few seconds, but when nothing comes from the other he pulls back and looks up. "You are not promising."

 "I won't. I can't." Montparnasse explains. "I would lie and I won't lie to you."

"Why! Wouldn't you ask me the same thing if you were in my position?"

Probably this is the moment when Montparnasse is supposed to profess his love, when he has to reassure Jehan that he's not going anywhere, that he will rather die than leave him, instead he stares at Jehan in silence, because the words won't come out from his throat and his tongue is too heavy to speak.

When he makes a step forward, Jehan makes a step backward. "Go away." he says. "Come back when you are you again."

"Jehan..."

"Go away."

"Don't do this."

"Promise me, then!"

"Jehan!"

They realized they have moved only when Jehan's back hit the wall.

For a moment they stare at each other, Jehan blocked between the wall and the other's body, and Montparnasse towering over him.

"Let me go." the poet says looking at the hands gripping his arms. "You are hurting me." he says surprised.

Montparnasse loose his grip immediately stepping back. He's more surprised than the other and it takes him few seconds to recollect himself. When he reaches for Jehan to pull him into a suffocating hug, the other doesn't protest and it's a relief. "Listen to me. I'm not going to leave you. I need you Jehan, as you need me. Trust me, they'll have to kill me to take me away from your arms."

"Was that supposed to be romantic? Because it's a little bit creepy." Jehan replies with an half-laugh.

"It was supposed to be honest." Montparnasse replies kissing the poet's right temple. "I'll keep in mind that I could hurt you indirectly from now on, I promise."

Jehan nods without saying anything, he wraps his arms around Montparnasse and let himself relax.

Maybe they will fight again very soon, but for now it's enough

"Can I stay here or do you still want me to go?" the younger asks, a hand lazily passing through Jehan's hair.

"Don't be ridiculous." Jehan says. "But you are sleeping on the couch."

"I was hoping in some make-up sex, come on."

Jehan rolls his eyes. "There will be no make-up sex because we didn't fight."

“If that wasn’t a fight I don’t know what it was.” Montparnasse frowns.  
  
“It was an argument. Believe me, when we’ll fight you will realize it.” Jehan states with confidence, then he kisses Montparnasse on the mouth. "I'll get your blankets." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter costed me nightmares. I've cut out Enjolras and Grantaire because of reasons and I am sorry, but it was the best choice.
> 
> The quote in Jehan's shop is from Byron's _To A Beautiful Quaker_
> 
> PS: As always, you'll find me at [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Enjolras finds Courfeyrac on his couch and decides it's time to talk with Combeferre, Courfeyrac speaks with Jehan over the phone, Feuilly and Bahorel have a moment, and Musichetta gives some advice to Jehan and texts Cosette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A BETA. I just don't have the patience to wait for it, so for now this is un-beta, all mistakes mine as always, I'll edit it as soon as I'll have the corrected chapter (I needed to publish this okay?)

Enjolras rolls over, almost falling off his bed, and reaches for his phone on the bedside table; he's not surprised when he finds fifteen texts from Grantaire, and even if he's still asleep when he reads them, he's sure that he doesn't understand a word because Grantaire was clearly drunk.

Deciding that there is no need to answer them (though, he sends a good morning text asking the other how he's feeling), the blonde get out of the bed with a yawn.

He stretch a little, letting his body adjust to the colder temperature and then he leaves his room.

The flat is quiet and obviously Combeferre is still not up, which means that breakfast will be Enjolras' duty, or at least coffee.

Passing through the living room, Enjolras ignores the soft snoring, but catches something on the couch in the corner of his eyes, only his mind register it too late and once he's in the kitchen he's forced to go back into the living room.

There is something - _someone_ \- curled on the couch, half-hidden under a blanket, and Enjolras stares at it for a long moment before sighing and moving to Combeferre's room.

The door is open ( because Combeferre says that you can never know when you need to go out quickly, and Enjolras agree ) so Enjolras enters and sits on the edge of the bed.

"'Ferre." he calls. "Wake up." with one hand he shakes up the sleeping figure a little bit.

A humming sound fills the room, sign that Combeferre is waking up. He automatically reaches for his glasses and wear them, looking confused at Enjolras. "What's wrong?"

Enjolras turns his head towards his best friend. "Why is Courfeyrac sleeping on our couch?"

"Because it was late, Montparnasse has been arrested, Jehan was angry and Courfeyrac was worried." Combeferre lists lazily. "What time is it?" he asks because he's sure it's still early and he can sleep a little more.

"Okay, I don't understand half of what you are saying, but still...why he's not in his house?" Enjolras asks. "I mean, was it on fire or something like that? With Pontmercy you can never tell, so I wouldn't be surprised."

“Because he was mad, Enjolras, he wouldn't stop ranting about what kind of person Montparnasse is, so, for Marius' sake, I brought him here to calm down and sleep." Combeferre sighs. "What's the matter?"

"Get out of bed, I'll make coffee and I'll tell you what's the matter." Enjolras says and stands up. He's far too early for this, but at this point he has no other choices.

Probably he should dress up, the t-shirt ( a old grey t-shirt that Grantaire used to paint and Enjolras accidentally took few weeks earlier) and his sweatpants aren't keeping him too warm, but it's Sunday, he can be lazy for a little while more.

Combeferre enters the kitchen a minute or so later, still wearing his pajamas, but at least with a hoodie over it. He sits at the table giving himself the time to fully wake up.

Two mug with hot coffee are placed on the table, then Enjolras sits in front of his best friend, looking at him. "So, Montparnasse has been arrested?"

"Only stopped, actually, and since Courf and Jehan went to the Nosferatu with Jehan's car, Courf needed a lift back home and he called me, but you know it." Combeferre stops to sip his coffee. "When I arrived, he started ranting about how worried he was because, and I am quoting: _"Ferre, we can't let Jehan date someone who has been stopped because he was dealing drugs!"_ and he ranted about how at this point his hate for Montparnasse is not even personal."

Enjolras nods absently. "And so you let him sleep here, because..."

"Because Marius doesn't want to hear any more words from Courfeyrac about Jehan and Montparnasse, and Courfeyrac was very talkative last night."

Enjolras sighs and drinks his coffee. How can he brings up the subject?   
He's not good in this kind of things -well, political speech? Yes, but speech about personal stuff? Not in this life time- and everybody loves to remind him his lack of empathy to the deepest level.

"Lately you and Courfeyrac have spent a lot of time together..."

"Yes." Combeferre nods. "We are friends, friends spend time together."

"A _lot_ of time, 'Ferre." Enjolras remarks.

Combeferre sighs. "I don't understand, if you have to say something, just say it, okay?"

Enjolras nods and takes a deep breath like he always does before starting a long, complicated, and important speech. "Florence Nightingale effect."

"You want to talk about the Florence Nightingale effect?" Combeferre asks confused. They did a paper together about it in high school, if he remember correctly (and he does.) but it's not a very common conversation topic.

"No." Enjolras shakes his head. "I am trying to say that you are suffering it. Well, not technically...."

"I am no doctor, Enjolras." Combeferre smirk. "How could I be in love with a patient?"

"Of course you cannot be, let's say you are suffering from something really close to it." Enjolras explains calmly. "Courfeyrac has a broken heart and needed help, you helped him and in the process you...get very, very close. Dangerously close, I would say."

For a moment Combeferre just stares at Enjolras unable to find a decent comeback to it. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am." the blonde replies. "Combeferre you are falling for Courfeyrac, it's clear even to me."

Combeferre turns his head and his torso to glance outside the kitchen, he can only see a little portion of the couch and he knows he's useless, but he does anyway.

Is he falling for Courfeyrac?

Surely they have spent a lot of time together, went out drinking, shared dinners or launches, but nothing romantically, not with Courfeyrac still not over Jehan.

"I am not falling for him."

"You are." Enjolras insists. "And it's a bad idea, 'Ferre, that's why I am talking to you: cease this before it becomes too serious, before you get burned by this."

"I am not falling for him!" Combeferre says again, like if the other didn't hear him the first time. "I am only helping a friend who needs help, and everybody else seems too busy to do it. I am more than happy to help."

"Yes, maybe at the beginning you were the only one available, I gave you that." Enjolras raises his hand in surrender. "But it has been more than a month and my boyfriend has been complaining about how he misses Courfeyrac because he's always with you. And you know what, 'Ferre? Grantaire is right."

Combeferre tries to say something, but the other stops him with a sharp look before going on.

"I've known you since we were five, and Courfeyrac since we were fourteen, so I know what I am saying: you never spent so much time with him, not even during the summer in Corsica when we were seventeen, so, I realized that something changed."

"And you just decided that it was me falling in..." Combeferre pauses because this is too ridiculous to even say it. " _lov_ e with Courfeyrac?"

"Not at first." Enjolras admits. "But then I noticed how you stop sitting next to me and started sitting between Courfeyrac and Jehan. I almost had a heart attack when I realized that Grantaire wasn't in his usual corner but next to me."

"If this is a sign that I am..."

"Calls in the middle of the night, you leaving the house in a hurry to go to him, him orders for you your favorite drink at the Musain after years of getting it wrong, you helping him through an hangover?" Enjolras lists. "No, you are not falling for him, absolutely."

"Is that sarcasm? Coming from you?" Combeferre smirks, not mentioning how the list resemble the one he did to Enjolras few months earlier about a certain too-often-drunk painter. "What is Grantaire doing to you?"

Enjolras finds himself blushing without a proper reason (his mind shouldn't think about sex when it's not even in the context.)

"Only a little bit of sarcasm, I am actually very serious, 'Ferre."

"Then let me reassure you, Enjolras: I am not falling for Courfeyrac, you don't have to worry."

Combeferre smiles and finishes his coffee; even if this little talk woke him up better than the caffeine.

He stands up and moves to the sink to quickly wash the mug.

Enjolras sighs and curls his finger around his mug, fighting the urge to push the topic further: he doesn't believe his best friend, and he knows he has all the reason to do so.

He finds himself asking if he was this obvious with Grantaire, even if he never realized it.

“I still do not understand." Combeferre says suddenly draining his hands with the nearest kitchen towel. "Even if I am falling for him, what's the matter?"

And Combeferre knows, as soon as the words leave his mouth, that a part of him just admitted that something has changed; the same part that started to appreciate a lingering touch, to notice the way when Courfeyrac laughs all his body trembles, to wait for a call or text asking to go out.

 "In one word? _Jehan_." Enjolras says standing up. "He's still in love with Jehan and he'll always will. I don't want you to be the second choice for someone."

"I am not falling for him." Combeferre says, but this time it's more to himself, a desperate endeavor not to sink in the awareness of the situation. "I am really not."

Enjolras rests a hand over Combeferre's shoulder. "I am sorry, it's not my intention to intrude in your private life, 'Ferre, but I already saw Courfeyrac with his heart broken and I couldn't do anything, I'll not let the same thing happen to you. Please, forgive me."

"My friend, you have nothing to be forgiven." Combeferre smiles a little. "Thank you for the warning. I like to think that even in the matters of the heart, knowledge is power; now let's see how can I use this knowledge."

From the living room, the tune of Karma Chameleon break off the conversation and both boys moves outside the kitchen.

Still in his sleep, Courfeyrac moves under the blanket to reach his phone and answer. "Jehan." he says automatically, his mind used to link the song and the caller.

 "Did I wake you?"

"Yes, you did, but it's fine, don't worry."

Enjolras and Combeferre give a questioning looks to their friend, who just smiles lazily, waves his hand, and mutters a _'good morning sunshines'_ to them.

"So, how's between you two now?" Courfeyrac asks to the phone as he get out of the blanket. He stretch a little and starts moving around the house just to do something.

"We talked, we...are good."

"Happy to hear about it." Courfeyrac half lies.

He stops next to Enjolras and Combeferre and gives both a quick peck on the cheeks.

"Yes, it went better than expected."

Courfeyrac enters Combeferre's room, ignoring the protests coming from the owner of the room, and lets himself fall on the bed.

"Can I ask you a question, Jehan?"

"You know you can, Courf."

Courfeyrac rolls on his side and sighs. "Yesterday you said that he has been arrested again. How many time it happened?"

"Only once since we are together." Jehan doesn't say it, but Courfeyrac can hear the 'i don' know how many times before we met'

"Can I speak freely?"

"Of course."

"Do you think it's a good idea to date 'Parnasse?"

Here it is, he said it, and he doesn't feeling guilty because it's not personal, not anymore, he's worried, not jealous, and he can act like a best friend without his feeling coming to the way.

"I know how it looks from your point of view, Courf, but he's a good person, I know it."

"Drug dealing and weed, Jehan." Courfeyrac points out simply, his voice as blank as possible.

"I told you: I know. I am not denying it, I am not saying this will be easy, it will not...but we are okay, we can do this. He's a nice guy, he never did anything wrong to me, I don't want to lose him."

"You are too precious, you know it?" Courfeyrac actually smiles. "Just be careful, okay? Next time he'll make you get angry like yesterday I'll make him regret it."

"No need for that, I'll make him regret it personally."

"Don't be an ass! Let me take care of you, you are my best friend."

Combeferre knocks on his door (his own door, how pathetic is this?) and enters the room.

"Enjolras asks if you want something to eat."

Courfeyrac covers the speaker of the phone with his hand. "Yes, a toast, and I'll need butter and jam. Oh, orange juice would be very appreciated." then he speaks back to Jehan. "Fine, I'll let you do it, let's hope you will not need to, okay?"

"Something else and we'll make you pay the breakfast." Combeferre jokes. "Say hi to Jehan from us."

"'Ferre and Enj say hi." Courfeyrac say to the phone.

"Are you with them?"

"Yes, 'Ferre rescued me yesterday night." the boy explains. "Never crush on their couch again, though, it's like sleeping on a brick."

“I see. Sorry, I have to go, ‘Parnasse is waking up.”  
  
“Okay, glad to hear you two are okay. Have a nice day.”

“You too, Courf.”

When Courfeyrac finally joins the other two in the kitchen, his breakfast is ready and this puts him in a obvious good mood.

One thing can be said about him: he cannot stay sad for too long. "So, how's my two best friends?" he asks happily reaching for the jam.

“Fine.” Replies Enjolras.  
  
“I’m good, thank you Courf.” Combeferre answers with an automatic smile and he regrets it as soon as he sees Enjolras looking at him.

"Hey, when was the last time we sleep all together and ate breakfast at the same table?"

"Poor choice of words." Enjolras says.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" Courfeyrac snaps. "But really, when? And why I am living with Pontmercy and not you two?"

 "Because Enjolras didn't want to have to deal with you bringing boys and girl in the house. And I agreed."

"Bastards."

 

* * *

 

 

When the front door closes, Feuilly snaps to attention, waking up completely in a matter of seconds. "Who's there?" he asks sitting up on the couch - _why he's on a couch?_ It takes him three seconds to realize this is not his couch.

"Dude, calm down, everything's fine." Bahorel says calmly from the front door.

Feuilly stare at Bahorel, who looks ready to go to the gym, then and the couch and he let his body fall on it once again. Now everything is clear and he remembers, past the first minute of confusion: in the end he slept at Bahorel's because there was no need to waste more fuel.

He groans something, his mouth against the pillow.

"What?" Bahorel asks confused.

"I said." Feuilly moves his head to make himself more audible. "Where the fuck are you going?"

"Actually, I'm coming back home." Bahorel explains. "Morning jogging is mandatory."

"Mandatory." Feuilly chuckles. "Fitness freak." Feuilly regrets his own words as soon as the pillow under his head is taken away and used to hit him on the shoulders.

"I am being paid because I am a fitness freak, you ginger idiot!" Bahorel comments throwing the pillow at the other.

Feuilly curls himself and cover his head with his arms. "It's not fair, you are a brutal creature and I'm just a sleepy boy!"

 "Brutal!" Bahorel repeats offended. "I'll give you brutal!"

Feuilly laughs as the pillow hits him again and tries to kick Bahorel to push him aside. "So this is the way you thank me after I've saved your ass yesterday night? You ungrateful bastard!"

"I've let you sleep under my roof, if you missed that!" Bahorel avoid Feuilly's legs and keep hitting him.

"You let a lot of people sleep under your roof!" Feuilly points out blocking the pillow with his hands.

"I am not Courfeyrac!"

 Between the hilarity attack and Bahorel's strength in taking back the pillow, Feuilly finds himself hitting the floor with a loud _thump_ still laughing. "No, you are not."

Bahorel chuckles, taking this as a sign of his victory. "I'm better."

Feuilly agrees in his mind and smiles at the hand offered to him and let the other help him to his feet "Thanks."

"Try not to break your fragile bones, ginger idiot." Bahorel warns. "What about breakfast? Are you hungry?"

"Yep." Feuilly answers. "And stop calling me ginger idiot, you like my ginger hair."

"Well, I do." Bahorel admits. "And your freckles." he adds casually walking into the kitchen.

 "Oh? That's new." Feuilly comments aghast walking a little bit slower, just to take some distance from Bahorel (the last thing he wants is for him to see the look on his face in this moment.) "And what else do you like about me?"

"I am not going to feed your ego." Bahorel shrugs moving around the kitchen to collect everything he needs to prepare breakfast.

"You started." Feuilly points out partially disappointed by the backup.

Bahorel looks at his friend, who stares back with eyebrow arched, waiting for the list to go on. "I like your will power and the fact that even if your life sucks, you are still the kindest person on this planet." Bahorel says shrugging.

This is not good, Feuilly thinks hopeless. He shouldn't care so much -or value so much- the words coming from Bahorel, not after deciding that he definitely doesn't have a crush on him.

"Well..." Feuilly starts tripping on the table because his mind is so focused in carving those words in his memory, that his coordination sucks. He ignore the smirks coming from Bahorel. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Bahorel turn and crosses his arms over his chest, forgetting the meal for a while "So, what do you like about me?"

"Sorry?" Feuilly blinks surprised.

"I thought we were having a moment here." Bahorel says blankly. "Where we say to each other nice things and stuff like that. Now, it's your turn."

Where can he start? The list can be very long. He can start from the way Bahorel is able to laugh and make other people laugh in the most inappropriate moments, or the way he's able to live his life without giving a damn about consequences or other people's judgment. "I am sorry, I can't think of anything." he lies. "And we weren't having a moment." he adds under his breath. He refuses to have a moment in Bahorel’s kitchen.

“Oh come on!" Bahorel insists. "There must be something you like about me."

"Nope." Feuilly shakes his head and shrugs and - _oh god_ \- he's being so obvious about his embarrassment that maybe the best thing to do it's just run away from the flat, go back to his place, and sleep until he's up for his shift at the gas station.

"I just said you are the kindest person on the planet. If I add that you are also strong and fierce and brave will you find something to say about me?" Bahorel asks

"Does your ego need so desperately to be flattered?"

"Maybe."

Feuilly sighs and rolls his eyes. "You are a good company, even when you drink or you get into bar fights, you made a living out of something everybody told you was a problem, you are always ready to defend your friends and your tattoo is awesome. Is that enough?"

"See? There was something." Bahorel curls his lips in a amused smile. "If you have more..."

"Yeah, a few things." Feuilly finds himself smiling back. "For example: for being someone who gets into a lot of fight you know how to be polite, your music taste can be both glorious and embarrassing at the same time, you likes to jokes but you never push a joke too far. I mean, sometimes you are a loud and annoying, but most of the time you are the easiest person to spend time with. You make life seems easy and funny."

"Oh so we are having a moment." Bahorel teases, flattered to the point that he can't hide it from his face. "Sounds like someone has a crush." he jokes.

Feuilly expected to panic, instead he just shrugs "Yeah."

After all, Bahorel indeed makes everything seems easy and not complex, and at this point it seems natural to just admit it.   
What can happen?

 Bahorel's reaction is a genuine laugh that makes the corner of his eye wrinkle. And he laughs for few second, until he sees Feuilly's serious expression."What...?"

"I've forgot to mention that your best trait is that you always laughs in the worst moments." Feuilly says with a blank voice and avoiding eye contact.

So this is the worst it can happen: the boy you have a crush for laughs to your face when you finally deal with it.

 _Fan-fucking-tastic_.

This is exactly why Feuilly was trying to ignore this stupid thing, he knew it was useless.

Bahorel is completely lost, he stares at Feuilly not sure what's happening or what's he's supposed to say. "You....oh fuck." he hisses when he realizes what the other just said.

Feuilly leaves the kitchen, ready to pick up his things and leave as quickly as possible. It looks dangerously like a retreat, and it feels like one, but he's not ready to face the situation. Not when it's clear that things are pretty much screwed.

"Feuilly wait!" Bahorel tries to stop him, which is a very bad idea because he has no idea of what he could say or how to handle the situation. He just doesn't want to leaves things like this.

Feuilly simply ignores Bahorel, opening the front door and going out.

"Feuilly!" Bahorel tries again when the other is already on the stairs. "Can you come back here for two fucking minutes ?" he's ready to run after the ginger, but his stupid phone chose the worst moment to ring.

 If only he was allowed to ignore that number, he would.

"Steph whatever it is, I have a situation." he warns.

"Well, whatever this situation is, it can wait." Steph says.

"Actually not." Bahorel looks back at the staircase asking himself how it will take for him to catch on Feuilly if he runs.

"Trust me. You should sit." Steph goes on.

"I don't have time for this, what the hell is going on?"

"Seems like you are going to London, Bahorel. Someone has been watching you and you have a fantastic offer to join a team. Congratulations."

 Any other day, Bahorel would be the most happy person on the planet, but not today. "For fuck's sake." he groans hiding his face in his hand.

"Well, you don't sound happy or excited."

"No, no, no, it's fantastic." Bahorel says because it is, because finally his life is moving on. "It's just that it's not a good moment." not with Feuilly running away.

"I hope you understand that this is a lifetime opportunity. Don't waste it, Bahorel."

"I know." Bahorel sighs.

"Good, then you should come here, so you can talk about everything."

"What? No, no, no I can't. I have a situation." He needs to talk with Feuilly, before he disappears in his weekly routine of working all day and night, he simply can't leave things like they are.

"Do you want them to sign a contact with someone else?"

"No..." but Bahorel doesn't want to screw things up with Feuilly either.

"Then come here." Steph orders and ends the call.

Bahorel stars at the phone for a good minute then curses and kicks a chair, that falls on the floor with a high sounds that cover Bahorel's second curse.

 "Fuck fuck fuck fuck." he repeats.

Maybe he could call Feuilly, but knowing him, he would just ignores his calls (not that he would blame him) and thinking about it, he doesn't know how to handle the situation. Not until he can stops few minutes to think about it, but it seems like life decided to distract him and before he screws up his opportunity too, it's better if he changes.

After all, he's only delay a confrontation for few hours, not much.

 

* * *

 

 

The shop is quiet, there is only one customer when Jehan arrives -for the first time in his life late- that leaves a minute or so later with a perfect bouquet.

Musichetta, from the desk, gives him a questioning look, but then she smiles in the warm way that's her own.

"Hello, boss." she mocks tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I know I'm late, sorry." Jehan mutters walking towards her and give her a gentle kiss on the left cheek. "It will never happen again."

"It's fine, I can handle things on my own." Musichetta replies. "But are you okay? You are never late."

"Yes, yes, I am okay." the poet says with a small smile. "Rough night."

Musichetta whistles. "Yeah, I had some..." she starts with a lower voice.

"No that kind of rough night!" Jehan exclaims blushing a little. "I had a little bit of argument with Montparnasse." which is an euphemism, to be honest, yes it could have been worse.

Musichetta worries immediately "About what?" she asks gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"He has been stopped by the police, so we spent half of the night arguing..."

"By the police? Why?"

"They thought he was dealing drugs, but he wasn't." Jehan explains with a sigh, looking at the shop door, happy to see people passing by. It would be so awkward -and bad for business- if someone decided to enter in this moment.

"Drug dealing?" Musichetta's voice raises up a little. "Are you kidding me?" she's not cursing only because she knows Jehan doesn't like it.

"I wish I was." Jehan sighs. "He wasn't, Musichetta, okay? He said so and I believed him. Yet I let him know that we can't go on like this."

"Of course you can't!" the girl shakes her head. "What he said?"

After a quick summary of what happened between them in the night and in the morning, after Courfeyrac's call, which also the reason why Jehan was late.

"So he didn't promise to stop...and you let him fuck you anyway?”

 "He's still my boyfriend, don't make it sound like I committed a crime." Jehan mutters ignoring the burning sensation on his face. Sex is a natural part of life, he's aware of it, he just doesn't like to talk about it with such earnest terms. "Don't tell me you never had sex with Joly or Bossuet -or both- after a fight."

“Yeah, I did." Musichetta replies. "But we never fight because my boys are criminals!" she remarks, her voice rising once again.

"He's not..." Jehan stops in the middle of the phrase. Okay, technically he is. "I know you cannot understand, from the outside this looks definitely bad, because it is -I give you that-, but with me he's the nicest person ever." How many times he has to say the same thing today?

"No, I actually understand." Musichetta says. "You know, I've been watching you two the times you brought him at the Musain or at a party..." and she did, because with Combeferre too focused on Courfeyrac, someone has to take care of the rest of the Amis, after all. "With us he's friendly, but not too much, it's clear that he likes other kinds of people, but when he looks at you?" she chuckles. "Man, his your entire world spin because of you and he does nothing to hide it. "

"The feeling is mutual." Jehan whispers.

"Yes, that much is obvious as well." Musichetta chuckles again. "For some reason you two work together, but next time you two have a fight..." she moves closer to Jehan and lower her voice. "Don't sleep with him for a while, he will make clear that you are serious about your reasons."

"I will never use sex as ransom." Jehan protest. "Sex should be spontaneous and natural! Shame of you, Musichetta!"

Musichetta giggles like a school girl. "How do you think I keep two boys in line, mh? Being cute?"

"Well, you are incredibly cute..." Jehan says with a charming tone. "And they would do anything to make you happy, that's why you love them and we both know."

The girl half-smiles, a way to agree. "I am a girl who lives with two boys, Jehan, I must use all my tricks to survive their need to be the alpha-male."

"Oh." the poet thinks that someone he can understand. With Joly being over protective about health and Bossuet always worried that something bad could happen, Musichetta's life must be somehow hard. "But we all know that your house is a matriarchy."

"Of course it is." Musichetta winks. Or she likes to think.

Jehan checks the schedule for the day noticing a delivery for a charity ball, at least he's still in time and he's sure that Musichetta had already prepared the flowers, because well, Musichetta knows her job better than anyone.

"You said you’ve been watching..." he starts checking the two addresses. "Can I ask you if you noticed something else too?"

Musichetta nods simply, waiting for the question.

"Have you noticed how Combeferre and Courfeyrac are getting close...or it's only me?" the poet asks frowning.

Musichetta let out a simple and low _'oh'_ and looks at her feet for a moment.

Yes, she did few days earlier, and since then she's worried because she knows how Courfeyrac really feels and it's not good.

"No, it's not only you, Grantaire and I discussed it at the Musain."

"Do you think they are dating?" Jehan asks quietly, moving around the shop and moving around flowers to display them in a better way.

"They are not dating." Musichetta replies quickly. "They are only going out as friends."

"You sound sure." Jehan turns his head to the girl still at the desk. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because..." the girl stops, saved by a customer that allows her to not find a good lie that is not _'because Courf loves you'_. Really, this situation is becoming ridiculous, even if Courfeyrac is really doing his best to hide is constant bad mood when Jehan is around.

Even if Musichetta asks herself how can Jehan notices whatever is happening between Combeferre and Courfeyrac and not Courfeyrac's feeling towards him.   
Could it be that Jehan is simply pretending not to know? For everyone's sake? Since Jehan is talking with the customers and for now she's not needed she takes out her phone and send a quick text

 **Musichetta:** Hey, C. do you think that Jehan knows about Courfeyrac?

 **Cosette:** I don't think so, he doesn't like someone who knows he's breaking someone else's heart.

 **Musichetta:** Yeah, right, never mind, that was silly- Sorry to disturb you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, not a big deal I am sorry, I promise that the best will come very soon!
> 
> I want to say thank you to Nana, Jamie and Eda for being supermegaawesomefoxyhot and not unfollowing me when I rant over this fic on my [tumblr](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/) (shhh click the link, it's a magical place I promise...no, not really, just my tumblr)
> 
> PS: Ahh, Corsica. What happened there? Who knows?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grantaire talks with Bahorel and destroys gender roles and sexuality and basically he doesn't give a fuck ( _so Bahorel just go and fuck Feuilly for Christ’s sake._ ), and Bahorel and Feuilly finally talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter is only Bahorel/Feuilly, I am sorry, but I needed to settle things between them because well next chapters have no spaces for them.
> 
> -No beta, as always, hate me all you want. English still not my first language, errors and typos 100% mine

"Okay." Grantaire sighs turning his head away from the bottles display behind the bar counter (and really, it's looking at them with a longing feel worth of a love story) to look at Bahorel. "What's wrong?"

Bahorel keeps looking at his glass (whatever it's in there, he swear to never again let Grantaire pick up the drinks for him) and shrugs.

"For fuck's sake, man." Grantaire says. "You are depressed, and you are never depressed."

"It's Feuilly." and the fact that he's going to move to London in the new year, but that's another story. "He basically told me he has a crush on me."

Grantaire stays silent and caresses his chin, pretending to be deep in thoughts for a long time, the other hand moving absently his glass in order to make the alcohol in it swirl. "And what did you do?"

"I laughed to his face." Bahorel mutters and then drinks, happy that at least the other is not shocked or surprised.

"Woah." Grantaire blinks. "And i thought that Enjolras was a heartless bastard. At least he never laughed to my face." he comments simply.

"I thought he was joking!" Bahorel points out. "I didn't know he was serious, I wouldn't never react that way otherwise."

"Well, that explains why he's been avoiding you this week." Grantaire comments politely. "I still don't see the problem. You apologize and everything will be fine."

Bahorel arches an eyebrow. "Really?" he asks. "You don't see the problem, R? _Feuilly_. _likes_. _me_." he states again and more he says it, more it seems something totally normal.

"Yes, then what?" Grantaire shrugs. "Look, the things are two: or you like him too or not, so there is no problem here."

"The problem is that I don't know if I like him!" Bahorel exclaims exasperated. He orders another drink and get it down in one gulp.

"Oh, I see the problem." Grantaire smirks. "You are too straight to like him?"

"Fuck you, R." Bahorel says resting his forehead on the surface of counter. "I'm your friend, I am very well used to not-straight sexuality."

"You are, I mean, you are also friend with Courfeyrac, which means you saw a lot of things..." Grantaire starts cheerfully.

"I am friend with you, and when you get drunk you get explicit. I bet I know more about your sexual fantasies than Enjolras." Bahorel remarks.   
And since the two get together, he has to listen to drunk detailed stories of sexual intercourses. The first time Grantaire talked about how better than marble Enjolras' body ( _every_ part of that body) was, for a week Bahorel couldn't look Enjolras in the eyes. So yeah, he's used to.

"Don't tell Enjolras." Grantaire says. "He would kill me."

"Sure he would." Bahorel smirks. "Are you even drinking? You haven't touch your glass."

Grantaire looks at the glass and the alcohol and makes a sound that could be a bluffed chuckle or a soft groan. "Trying to cut down my drinking, Bahorel."

"That's cool, dude." Bahorel says honestly giving the other a proud pat on the shoulder.

"No, it's not." Grantaire admits. "Anyway, we are not talking about me, but about you and Feuilly. I have a question: would you date him if he was a girl?"

Bahorel blinks once, then he frowns at the question, but before he can say anything, Grantaire slams his glass on the table.

"Answers me honestly. If he was a pretty girl with long legs, a lovely smile, bright eyes and a lot of freckles on her nose, and same personality would you date him?"

"Yeah, definitely." Bahorel replies rolling his eyes.

"Then why the fuck are you not dating him?" Grantaire asks confused.

"He's a boy." Bahorel points out.

"So what?" Grantaire shrugs. "Do you think I would give a damn if Enjolras had a pair of marble boobs, or he was a fucking alien coming from another planet? I love him because he's Enjolras, because he talks too much, because he's an idealist, that's have nothing to do with his gender."

"Woah." Bahorel literally starts clapping slowly to Grantaire. "When you are not drunk you say smart things. You are not dead under all the cynicism and self-loathing, then."

Grantaire smiles sadly, thinking about Enjolras' face lights up when he says something serious (the tender way when he doesn’t really smile, but his whole being shines with pride) and he take a sips from his drink because after that, there is the way Enjolras looks at him with disappointment when he's drunk. "Back to the point." he clears his throat. "What's the problem about him being a boy?"

"He's a boy. I've never been with a boy.”

"Could it be you are scared?" Grantaire mocks because he knows it's the fastest way to get under Bahorel's skin.

"I am not scared! Not of Feuilly for sure!" Bahorel spat angry. "I am not scared of a ginger idiot."

"Not scared of him, maybe, but you are clearly not comfortable with the..." Grantaire stops letting his mind phrases what's he's going to say next. "physical aspect of a relationship with said ginger idiot."

"There is no physical aspect in our relationship." Bahorel points out, but he can clearly feel himself becoming more uncomfortable.

"But there will be." Grantaire points out grinning. "You two aren't asexual, so it will happen something physical at some point, and since you consider yourself straight, it's perfectly understandable that you find the eventuality intimidating."

"It's not..." Bahorel starts then sighs, because fuck Grantaire, he's right. "I can't see me kissing or doing something else with a boy."

"But it's not a boy, it's Feuilly." Grantaire drinks again, slowly, not as his usual; for once he doesn't look thirsty, he looks like someone that enjoys drinking and nothing more. "So stop thinking about what's between his legs for a moment and be honest with yourself as human being: if you like him, go and get him, he's only waiting for you."

Bahorel doesn't reply; instead he drinks again, trying to drown his confusion and the questions that fill his mind at the moment.

Yes, he's intimidated, but not by the eventuality to kiss Feuilly, but by the eventuality that he will not like it, that he will hate it, and, above all, he's scared about the eventuality that he will screw his friendship with Feuilly for good if he makes a move.

If only he could have more time he could make himself more comfortable with the whole situation, but London waits.

"Look, for what I care you can keep your relationship secret if it makes you more comfortable, after all, it's nobody's business who you are fucking and why. You can keep it secret even from us: I'll keep my mouth shout, whatever you do." Grantaire orders another drink, not stopping talking. "I understand that both society and your work expect you to be manly, masculine, basically the epitome of virility; the truth is humans are more complicated, so allow yourself to live your life as you wish, not as you are told."

Bahorel stares at Grantaire with his mouth slightly open, even if he's dying to do a sarcastic comment, all he can say is: "I swear, I'll make you stop drinking if it means having you talk like this more often. Dude, why are you drowning in alcohol if your thoughts are so deep?"

"Because the world still sucks, no matter what I think. And when I notice how the world really sucks, I'd rather drink to stupor than trying to fix it. It's not my job to, you know? I'm just a man, I have no desire to spend my little time here fighting and shouting, since it will be totally useless." Grantaire sighs, thinking that he's more happy than leave that to Enjolras. "Don't change topic. What are you going to do with Feuilly?"

"Apologize." Bahorel says with a re-found confidence. "Then probably kiss him, that's my style."

Grantaire laughs and raises his glass. "That's how you talk, Bahorel!"

"That's how a faggots talk." someone to Bahorel's right says, a tired husky voice that belongs to a man with strong indelicate features who is clearly already drunk. "Can you and your little girlfriend over there stopping annoying people with your gay chats?"

Bahorel arches his eyebrow and turns to Grantaire, surprised "Are you my girlfriend?"

Grantaire shrugs. "Last time I checked I was fucking a marble, not you."

Bahorel turns back to the man who interrupted them. "Sorry, man, he's not my girlfriend. Actually, I'm pretty sure his boyfriend would skin you alive if he hears you imply I fuck him." he turns back to Grantaire. "He would, wouldn't he?"

"Oh yes, the boy he's pretty jealous even if he hides it very well." Grantaire smirks.

"See?" Bahorel is backing to the man who is now fuming with a rage that has no reason to be there. "Oh man, come on." he rolls his eyes. "You don't want to annoy us."

"Get out of here, nobody wants to have you around." the man stands up and looks at Bahorel.

 "R?" Bahorel asks looking at his friend.

"Oh, be my guest." Grantaire replies raising his glass in a toast.

Bahorel cracks his neck with a smile and stands up too facing the man. "Actually, I think nobody wants a homophobic asshole like you around."

"How did you call me?" the man asks, his thick eyebrow frowning, his teeth clenching. "How dare you insult me, you freak?"

"R?" Bahorel calls again annoyed.

"What? I not going to get up from this chair, you can handle on your own." Grantaire comments drinking.

"Stop you two, you are revolting." the man says, his tongue slipping on the last words.

"No, man, you stop. Before I broke your..." Bahorel stops and stares at the man's face. "giant, ugly, and sharp nose."

"You couldn't in a life time." the man taunts with a drunk smile.

Grantaire's laugh echoes in the pub as soon as Bahorel's fist hit the man's face. "He warned you." he says out loud, so that everyone can know. Holding the moral ground is always a good thing.

He still laughs when the man ends up bloody face first on the floor, or the man stands up and hits Bahorel squared on the jaw. "You shouldn't have." Grantaire says amused, enjoying the spectacle.

Bahorel's hand is quickly firm on the back of the man's head and with one smooth movement, he slams it against the surface of the bar counter.

It's a strange things to see, Bahorel just stands there like he just didn't hurt someone, as the man falls to his knees, a cut on his forehead already bleeding.

"Bahorel!" The owner of the pub shouts running from a back door, called by a waitress that stands next to him. "Stop it!"

"He called me faggot!" Bahorel replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"He said I'm his girlfriend!" Grantaire shouts as it's the worst insult in the world.

"Whatever." the owner say. "You can't punch people in my pub, you know it. OUT." he points at the door.

Grantaire swallows the last bit of his drinks and strands up, taking their coats and handing Bahorel his.

They dress in a cold silence, people looking at them, waiting.

"Let's go, let's celebrate the victory somewhere else." Bahorel says keeping the door opens for the other. People are already by the man's side, worried and calling for help.

Grantaire is still laughing when they are outside. "Man, that was scary as hell. You knocked him so fucking quickly." he hugs Bahorel and kisses him on the cheek. "Fantastic, K.O in one round."

Bahorel chuckles, pushing Grantaire away elbowing him gently in the ribs. "I've punched someone because they called me gay and I haven't kissed a boy yet. What I am going to do when I am actually sleep with him?"

Grantaire grins. "Go fuck him and let's find out." he suggests happily.

 "Oh God, you are even worse when you are so sober." Bahorel says shaking his head. Grantaire keeps looking at him with a devilish expression and he rolls his eyes. "Fine, I'm going."

"Now?" Grantaire check his watch and frowns.  "If he doesn't kill you because you woke him up in the middle of the night, he really likes you."

Bahorel actually takes his time to put the scarf better around his neck. "Let's hope so. This is going to take an awful lot of courage, if he let me down I don't know how I am going to live with myself."

"He will not, I want all the hot details tomorrow." Grantaire gently pushes Bahorel towards the street.

"Maybe there will be nothing to tell."

"You innocent fool, you will have a lot of things to tell."

 

* * *

 

The digital clock reads 1:47 am, when Feuilly opens his eyes, and he curses under his breath.

Who the fuck can bother him at this hour? Fucking people who doesn't sleep or have to work in the morning.

He grabs his shirt from the chair where he tossed it three hours earlier, and put it on as he moves to the front door, switching every light on the path.

 "Who the fuck is this?" he greets lazily.

"Just me." Bahorel replies and for fuck's sake, he should have known better than to disturb Feuilly.

Feuilly seems to wake up suddenly and stares at Bahorel for a minute, shivering at the cold hair. "What the fu..." _no that's not polite._ "Why are you here?"

 "I.." Bahorel shrugs, mentally waving goodbye to his courage. "I wanted to apologize."

"At 2 in the morning?" Feuilly asks. "You waited for a fucking week, you could have waited tomorrow morning."

"Before you catch a cold and miss working days, can we go inside?" Bahorel suggests. Feuilly step aside and let the other enter, before they both freeze in the winter air.

Bahorel starts to feel sorry: Feuilly looks clearly like someone who just woke up, with eyes still sleepy and bed hair going in all directions, so once inside he just stares at him.

"Someone punched you in the face?" Feuilly asks pointing at the other's jaw. Why is he even surprised? It's late at night, it's Bahorel, of course someone punched him in the face.

"Ah, yeah." Bahorel comments absently. "Some idiot wanted to fight."

"Mh." it's the only sounds coming from Feuilly (what could he says? There is always someone who wants to fight in the pubs where Bahorel and Grantaire spend their nights). He falls on the small sofa, a two-sit thing as old as him, with a yawn. "So what you want to apologize for?"

"Uhm, well, waking you up now, I swear it sounded like a good idea." Bahorel starts standing awkwardly and looking at the other, deciding to take his coat off to do something with his hands. "Then for avoiding you for an entire week. But mostly for laughing to your face, it was rude."

There is no answer from the ginger for a long moment, as he just stares at Bahorel trying to figuring him out. "Apologize accepted for tonight and the whole week." he states simply in the end.

"What about laughing to your face?" Bahorel asks worried. "You don't forgive me for that?"

"That was my fault." Feuilly shrugs. "I shouldn't have said that in the first place" and he will surely not say that again now. "I have no idea why I've said it, you know?" he shakes his head. "Two minutes before I wouldn't have said that not even under torture, but you mentioned it and bam! it was the most logical thing in the universe."

Bahorel takes a chair from the table in the small kitchen and drags into the living room, puts it in front of the couch and sits down (he doesn't feel like a good idea to sit next to the other now)

"Another reason why I should apologize." "

Bahorel." Feuilly says tired. "It was nothing, _it's nothing_ , don't bother about it, okay?" there is a please not said, clear in his eyes.

"But you meant it, right?" Bahorel asks gingerly, and he doesn't know if, after all it takes him to come to this point, he's hoping for an affirmative or a negative answer.

A little, not very happy, smile crosses Feuilly's face. "Yeah."

Bahorel smiles "Good." he says happily because for a moment he really thought the other was going to deny everything (no that he would have blamed him in that case.) and joins the other on the couch. "So, if I wanted to kiss you wouldn't mind, right?"

Feuilly blinks and stares at Bahorel, confused and surprised, his mind struggling to stop his hope from getting too high. Come on, Bahorel would never kiss him, it's obvious, so the best thing to do is just to put it on a joke. "Buy me a drink, first."

"I'm sure I've brought you plenty of drinks because you were out of money, ginger idiot." Bahorel replies with his best flirty voice, leaning slightly towards the other, but not too much.

Feuilly frowns. "You are serious. You want to kiss me?" his words are uncertain and he can barely look at the other in the eyes.

"Why not?" Bahorel asks shrugging, like it's something he has always wanted to do. "Why do you think I'm here in the middle of the night risking to be killed by you?"

Feuilly almost jumps at the realization, shifting his position to better face the other. "Bahorel if you are doing this for pity, I swear to God, I'll kill you."

"Can you please shut up? It's hard to kiss you if you keep talking!" Bahorel exclaims and before he can change his mind (there is a little rate of possibility that he could) his mouth is on Feuilly’s, and okay, it's not like kissing a girl, but it's not that bad, he can deal with not-so-soft lips and not-so-gentle kisses; and when Feuilly kisses him back he doesn't pull away.

"That was good, considering you are not my type." Bahorel smirks, already going for another kiss.

"Oh fuck you!" Feuilly says, covering Bahorel's mouth with his hand to stop him. "Really? You kiss me and then you tell me I'm not your type? That was shockingly rude."

Bahorel rolls his eyes and takes away Feuilly's hand. "You don't look like a girl to me."

"So if I am not a girl and your type, why you kissed me?" Feuilly asks, a shadow of anger frowning his eyebrow.

"Because your eyes are a pretty shade of green?" Bahorel tries with a giant smile.

"Are you flirting?" Feuilly frowns confused.

"Trying to make you forget my poor chose of words, actually." Bahorel admits. "It wasn't intentional."

Feuilly sighs. "I know, I know. But really, if you don't want to do this...I would understand, just tell me."

"I think I can do this." Bahorel states with confidence. "Yeah I can totally do this, if you want, of course." he adds suddenly worried that Feuilly could decide to

"I'm totally in." Feuilly's hands closes around Bahorel's jacket pulling him closer until their mouth crushes together, in a greedy kiss that it's completely different from the previous, since they are both more confident, both more willing to explore, taste and try.

Soon Feuilly is pushed against the couch, the space between kisses becomes so short that they seems like a never-ending kiss, and their body doesn't seems to have all the paranoia that blocked them.

It's Bahorel who pulls away first, and he looks at Feuilly under him, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips slightly open, green eyes focused on him, and _goddammit_ , he wouldn't mind that vision every day.

"What about we move this to the bedroom?"

Feuilly actually laughs, running his hands over Bahorel's arms, feelings the muscles. "Oh god, yes please. For someone who believed I didn't want to touch you, I'm dying to do it."

 

* * *

 

The digital clock reads 6:30 when Feuilly opens his eyes, and his arms automatically reach for the off button to stop the annoying alarm that fills the room with noise. He rubs his face, feeling like he could sleep another four hours, and that wouldn't be a bad idea since he slept really too little the nigh previous.

There is an arm over his chest and it takes Feuilly a good thirty second to realize that it belongs to Bahorel who is snoring on the other side of the bed, on his side facing him.

 

"For love's sake." Feuilly hisses taking the arm off his chest. "You animal, were you trying to suffocate me in my sleep?" he groans. 

"What?" Bahorel opens only his left eyes. "What's the problem."

 

"You are clingy." Feuilly comments. "Which would be adorable, but your arm alone weight like a mountain."

 

"Good morning to you too." Bahorel yawns and rolls on his back, stretching his arms. "What time it is? Why are we already awake?"

 

"I've to go to work." the ginger explains giving another look at the alarm.

 

"That sucks." Bahorel mutters. "Can you call a sick day? I'm sure you feel restless as I am."

 

"Of course I am." Feuilly rolls his eyes and turn his head on the pillow, so that he can see the other. "Someone came in the middle of the night and robbed me of my sleep."

 

"Shut up, you are glad I did." Bahorel points out with a smart smirk on his face. A smirk that is also a satisfied one. A smirk that speaks directly to the various hickeys and love bites on Feuilly's pale skin.

 

 "You shut up." Feuilly mumbles rolling on his side, pouting like a child and giving his back to the other, already regretting letting him into his bed. Soon arms are again around him, and he can feel Bahorel's warm breath on the back of his neck and it feels more intimate that all the things they did in the same bed few hours earlier.

 

"Before you go to work I have to tell you one thing." Bahorel announces, knowing that whatever will happens between them cannot happen if Feuilly doesn't know the truth.

 

"Go on." Feuilly says simply.

 

"I've been offered a job in a team that work in London, which means I could fight at the Proxy and fight for championships." Bahorel tries to keep his voice as blank as possible.

 

"Did you accept it?" Feuilly asks, closing his eyes, as if he’s waiting to be hit any second.

 

"Yes." Bahorel murmurs the words before kissing the back of Feuilly's neck.

 

Slowly Feuilly moves around, so that he can face Bahorel, and despite the knot in his throat, he smiles and says. "Congratulations." before kissing the other gently.

 

Bahorel frowns confused. "I'd expected a different reaction."

 

"I'm your best friend, this is what best friends do: they support you in your decision." Feuilly shrugs, but he knows, from the way Bahorel is looking at him, that he's doing an awful job to pretend not to be affected. "When you are leaving?"

 

"January, after all the holidays." this sounded so exciting when they told him, now it's not that much.

 

"Okay, that's more than one month." Feuilly comments almost relieved. "That's a lot of time."

 

"You think?" Bahorel frowns, and suddenly he's lost in counting the freckles on the ginger's nose. "What are we going to do when I'm in London?"

 

"We'll see when you are in London." Feuilly says simply. Then he smirks. "But first, we'll live." he adds in a lower voice.

 

Bahorel's eyes widens. "Did you just quoted Ygritte to me?" he asks disbelieving. "You son of a bitch." he adds and he doesn't care if the way he kisses Feuilly is nothing but rude and demanding. "First we'll live."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Bahorel loves Asoiaf and Feuilly knows.  
> I am sorry that my characters tends to swear a lot when angry and when woken up in the middle of the night.
> 
> As always a big thank you to my lovely golden trio, Nana, Eda and Jamie.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Courfeyrac does a thing that changes everything, and nobody is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I start to explain how much sorry I am for the almost one month hiatus? I can't, but I am really really sorry.  
> It's a long chapter, a key one, it took me a little more than a week to write and then my beta ( a big thank you to [laRevolutionnaire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/laRevolutionnaire/pseuds/laRevolutionnaire) ) had to correct it and it wasn't easy.

Grantaire has nothing against shopping, or against Christmas - he has a problem with Christmas shopping. The malls are always full of people running around frantically, always too loud, always full of things one doesn't need.

And Grantaire hates choosing presents, because he simply can't. The only person as bad as him is Feuilly, and only because he has a low budget.

Courfeyrac, on the other hand, loves Christmas. He loves the neon street lights, he loves how everyone is happier and friendlier, and, in part, it's Jehan fault. Because  _nobody_ loves Christmas as much as Jehan does.

So, as the two boys walk around the mall, Grantaire looks like a dead man walking, and Courfeyrac beams at everyone.

"Come on R, smile! It's almost Christmas," Courfeyrac says, poking his friend in the ribs.

“Yeah, and I have to buy presents," Grantaire points out. "Do you realize it's my first Christmas with Enjolras? I have to get something… _memorable_."

Courfeyrac frowns, thinking seriously about this.

"No," Grantaire warns. "I will not buy him sexy underwear."

"When did I say you should buy him sexy underwear?"

“It was written all over your face. And next time you think about my boyfriend and underwear at the same time, I will punch you." Grantaire looks at Courfeyrac menacingly. "Plus I don't want to give him a present he can't open at… where the hell is the Christmas party this year?"

"In my defence, I always think about underwear." Courfeyrac holds up his hand in surrender. "At Musichetta's."

"That's why I knew what you were thinking." Grantaire smirks. "Are you ready to have Jehan and Montparnasse being all cute on Christmas' Eve?"

The question makes Courfeyrac sigh, but then he looks at the little bracelet around his wrist and shakes his head.  _Smile for me_. "I think I'll have to be."

"Yeah." Grantaire pats his friend's shoulder. It will be awkward; that’s the only thing he knows for sure. "Thanks for coming with me, though. I'm surprised you are not out with Combeferre."

"What's the matter with you people and me and 'Ferre?" Courfeyrac groans in frustration. "I'm not spending all my time with Combeferre. And he’s at that stupid conference, whatever it is."

Grantaire arches an eyebrow and says nothing, because it would be pointless - everybody's already noticed anyway.

He won't point out the fact that Combeferre has become a surrogate Jehan for Courfeyrac. Not that Grantaire can blame Courfeyrac - he needs to talk to someone about Jehan, and that someone can't be Jehan.

"Whatever. You know… I think I'll buy him the underwear, you wait here."

Courfeyrac nods and waves as Grantaire enters the shop. He can already picture Enjolras' face, and he promises himself he'll be there when he opens the present.   
Maybe with a phone ready to take a picture.   
Yes, definitely with a phone.

Thinking this, he stares blankly at the wall in front of him, wondering how long it will take Grantaire to find the perfect present. Then he notices a familiar silhouette, even if he hates to admit he recognizes it.

Only one person could dress so fashionably for an afternoon in the mall, only one person wear that charming smirk. And that person shouldn't have an arm wrapped around a pretty girl's waist.

Courfeyrac frowns, trying to decide if the girl could be related to Montparnasse or not. But her skin is the wrong shade, her nose is bigger, her face more squared, her hair the wrong color. Hardly a sister.   
And even Montparnasse wouldn't grab his sister that way, or kiss her cheek with such intensity.

Montparnasse notices Courfeyrac staring at him, and since he can't pretend he hasn't seen him, he says something to the girl before letting her go into the shop alone.

Even when the girl disappears in the shop, Courfeyrac keeps frowning.

"Courfeyrac," Montparnasse greets. "Christmas shopping?"

"Yeah." Courfeyrac nods, finally looking at the other. "With Grantaire. Who are you with?"

Montparnasse smirks. "Azelma Thenardier, aka Eponine's younger sister," he explains amused.

"Eponine's sister," Courfeyrac repeats, still not sure what's the other is doing with Azelma.

"What, are you suspicious of me, Courfeyrac?" Montparnasse arches an eyebrow and puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans, raising his chin. "In case you're wondering, I'm not cheating on Jehan."

Courfeyrac snaps to attention. "And when did I say I was thinking that?"

"Trust me, it was obvious." The younger boy smirks again with arrogance. "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm sure you really hoped I was cheating on Jehan. No doubt you would be there ready to comfort him."

"What the hell are you saying?” Courfeyrac steps closer to Montparnasse, all his polite intentions already gone.

"Come on, Courfeyrac." The younger boy keeps smiling. He raises a hand and pats the other on the shoulder in a way that should be anything but hostile. "I know you like my boyfriend, and you know that I know, so let's stop pretending. But the real question is," Montparnasse continues, as Courfeyrac remain silent, "have you ever tried to make a move?"

"None of your fucking business," Courfeyrac says annoyed. It's okay to talk about his crush with Grantaire, or Eponine, or even with Combeferre, but definitely not with his crush's boyfriend.

Especially because Montparnasse looks so amused by the whole situation, and it's maddening.

"So you haven't. Thought so." Montparnasse pats Courfeyrac on the shoulder again, a mocking laugh ready to burst forth. "You know, you should have. After all, it took me only two kisses to get into his pants.”

"He's your boyfriend and you talk about him in that way?" Courfeyrac points a finger at Montparnasse, clenching his teeth. "You should be glad that a person like Jehan decided to stay with you. You should worship him. Because you don't fucking deserve him!" 

 _Thank you very much, like I'm not aware._  "Are you questioning Jehan's judgment?" Montparnasse is strangely calm. "I didn't force him. Actually, he invited me in his bedroom."

Courfeyrac decides to be polite, despite how pissed off he is, and just shove Montparnasse away. "You shouldn't talk about him that way."

"Why, because it makes you angry?" Montparnasse shoves Courfeyrac back. "It's the truth, like it or not."

"You don't deserve him," Courfeyrac repeats and  _god,_ does it feel good to say it out loud.

"And you do?" Montparnasse shoves Courfeyrac again, mocking him.

Courfeyrac shoves him back, and egging Courfeyrac on is so damn funny for some reason that Montparnasse just keeps going.

"Why, are you better than me? He chose me, not you. Maybe I don't deserve him, but I'm enough."

 At this exact moment, Courfeyrac's fist collides with Montparnasse's jaw, preventing him from saying anything else.

" _Oh_ ," Montparnasse says stepping back, a hand pressed to where Courfeyrac's fist made contact. Finally a laugh escapes from his throat, easing the pain. "Now, now…I wanted to keep this a polite conversation."

Montparnasse’s fist is like a rock hitting his cheekbone, and Courfeyrac is already regretting starting this, but he hits the boy back for good measure.

Years of friendship with Bahorel have given Courfeyrac some notion of fights (more bar fights than fights in a shopping mall during Christmas shopping, but that's a detail), but he's a lover not a fighter, and for fuck's sake, every punch hurts like hell, no matter what. He can only hope he's hitting back in the right way.

It's good for stress. Maybe he should have tried this before. But it's not good for his cheekbone. Or his stomach. Or any other place where Montparnasse scores a hit (seriously, he's lost track). So he's not sure he'll attempt it again.

People are staring at them, talking loudly but doing absolutely nothing, except attracting more people.   
The confusion grabs Grantaire’s attention from the shop, and unable to resist his curiosity, he moves outside. Just in time to see his friends fighting.

" _Goddammit_ ," Grantaire hisses, shoving people aside and moving closer to Courfeyrac and Montparnasse. "Stop it! Stop it now," he shouts, without success.

Why do his friends have to be so annoying? It's Christmas time for fuck's sake.

 He tries to grab Courfeyrac's arms and pull him aside, but Courfeyrac just manages to free himself and send another punch into Montparnasse's stomach.

"Are neither of you thinking about Jehan?" Grantaire puts himself between the two, far too sober for a fight. Where is Bahorel when he needs him to cover his back? "Come on, he hates fights. You can't… listen to me for god's sake!"

The reason Grantaire never tries to stop fights (usually he just laughs and drinks as Bahorel does all the work, only getting into fights when someone offends him personally) is because, most of the time, whoever intervenes gets punched too.

So when Montparnasse's fist accidentally hits his nose, he's not surprised. He's not surprised by the blood coming from it either.

The first to notice and stop fighting is Montparnasse. "Fuck," he hisses, grabbing Grantaire's shoulder and trying to check his nose with the other. "I'm so sorry." There's a kindness in his voice which is totally unexpected. "Let me see…"

Grantaire gives him his best  _bitch please_  face as he claps his hands to his face, trying to stop the blood that has already stained his coat.

“Grantaire, are you okay?" Courfeyrac's more focused on the blood than on his friend. " _Shit_. We should go to Joly."

"If it's broken I'll kill you both," Grantaire manages to say thickly. It certainly feels like it's broken. God, he really doesn't want to spend Christmas with a broken nose. He likes it when Enjolras kisses him on the nose. If it's broken he really will kill them. "Someone call Enjolras," he demands.

"I'll call him in the car," Courfeyrac says, dragging Grantaire away as the security reaches them.

"I'll drive," Montparnasse says. His suggestion is welcomed by two pairs of raised eyebrows, and he sighs. "It's my fault. I want to help, okay?"

Before Courfeyrac can reply with a no, Grantaire stops him with a single look and nods. He regrets it immediately.

* * *

 

Musichetta opens the door, wearing nothing but a tiny white towel that leaves little to the imagination. She stares at the three boys in front of her, who are all pointedly staring at her chest.

 She would probably be pissed off if it weren't for the blood on Grantaire's face and clothes, and the cut on Montparnasse's eyebrow, and Courfeyrac's black eye.

"Bossuet!" she shouts. "Tell Joly to come here with a first aid kit!" She lets the three boys enter, and makes them sit on three chairs in the living room.

Joly shows up few seconds later, wearing a t-shirt that clearly belongs to Bossuet because it's large around the shoulder; nobody says anything. Courfeyrac is sure that they arrived just after a hot threesome.

"Christ," Joly comments, but that's it. One look - and a critical one at that -and he moves towards Grantaire, who looks most in need of patching up. "Okay, I'll need something to clear the blood. Bossuet? Grab a towel, would you? And get an ice pack for Courfeyrac?" He glances behind him and sees Bossuet nod, before moving to attend to Grantaire again.

"What the hell happened?" Musichetta frowns, still standing unashamed in her towel.

"Long story," Courfeyrac says, glaring at Grantaire. Montparnasse simply ignores the pair of them.

"It can't have been a bar fight. It's too early for that, and besides, Bahorel isn't with you." Musichetta scans each of their faces.

Bossuet comes back and gives the ice pack to Courfeyrac, who accepts it with relief, and hands the towel to Joly.

"'Chetta, go and get dressed. We can talk later, dear." Joly cleans Grantaire's face gently, washing away the blood and trying to not touch the swelling nose; it doesn't look good to be frank. "Okay, how's the pain?"

"A seven or an eight," Grantaire replies, the question all too familiar. Going to Joly after a fight has become routine by now.

"Mh." Joly frowns thoughtfully, his fingers examining Grantaire's nose. He stops only when Grantaire hisses and jerks away. "I think it's broken, but you should probably get it checked out just to be sure. Anyway, it's doesn't seem too bad, so relax. Your nose will be fine."

Grantaire groans. "Usually Bossuet is the unlucky one." Montparnasse squeezes his shoulder and he sighs. "It hurts. Got any painkillers?"

"Will brandy be okay?" Musichetta exits the bedroom dressed in a blue long sleeve shirt and a pair of blue jeans.

"You are my savior." Grantaire smiles a little. Joly rolls his eyes.

 Montparnasse and Courfeyrac don't have serious injuries. Joly disinfects the cut on Montparnasse's eyebrow and their split lips, and instructs Courfeyrac to keep the ice pack on his black eye, and then leaves them be.

Grantaire, meanwhile, drinks his brandy (a full glass, bless Musichetta) with rediscovered good humor, even though his whole face aches, and the ice pack that Bossuet gave him (because somewhere deep inside him, there is a guy who's has spent far too much time with Joly and is almost a nurse himself) is too damn cold.

Again, it's Musichetta who opens the door when the doorbell rings, and she smiles gently, not surprised to see a certain blond boy at her door. "Come in." she steps back. "He'll survive, don't worry."

Enjolras nods simply, Musichetta's soothing tone easing some of his worries, and enters the flat.

He greets everyone on auto pilot, moving towards Grantaire. Courfeyrac's words still echo in his ears.  _("Enj, can you come to Joly’s? Long story to explain, but Grantaire's nose is pretty bad and he's bleeding all over the car and he wants to see you.”_ )

"Hey." he says softly, crouching so he's at eye level with the dark haired boy. Though Joly has cleaned his face, Enjolras can still see a hint of red under Grantaire's nose, which looks horribly swollen. "How do you feel?" He strokes one of Grantaire's cheeks gently.

Grantaire pouts like a child. "What do you think? Joly think it's broken."

Enjolras looks at said medic, who says, "nothing major. It'll heal naturally and it probably won't look any different. He's fine; don’t listen to him.”

Grantaire gives him the finger, which makes both Montparnasse and Musichetta chuckle at the same time.

"What happened?" Enjolras looks around, noticing Courfeyrac's black eye. Long story indeed.

Slowly Montparnasse raises a hand, like a good schoolboy ready to answer a question. "My fault," he admits. There is no point in denying what happened, after all. "Courfeyrac punched me, so I punched him back. We got into a fight, which Grantaire tried to stop, and I accidentally hit him in the processs and broke his nose."

For a moment, everyone is silent. Musichetta crosses her arms and frowns, and Bossuet shares a look with Joly. Enjolras is completely still.

And suddenly he isn't. Grantaire tries to grab Enjolras' wrist, but he's too slow. Grabbing Montparnasse by the collar of his shirt, Enjolras shoves the younger boy against the wall. "What's your fucking problem? First you punch my best friend, and then you break my boyfriend's nose? Do you like hitting people, or can't you fucking control yourself?"  
"Enjolras!" Musichetta calls. "Leave him!"

Joly and Bossuet are quickly either side of Enjolras, trying to pull him away from Montparnasse, but Enjolras is determined to keep his grip on the younger boy's collar. "Give me one good reason why I should you allow to hang around with us from now on? Why should I allow someone like you to hang around with Jehan?" Enjolras' voice is full of the power that it

usually has in the streets in front of the police, or the campus in front of the students.

Montparnasse listens, not really interested to be honest, and then laughs, and let his eyes focus on Grantaire. "Told you he was going to be the first."

Grantaire stands up with a groan and sighs. He doesn't find it funny at all. 

"Yeah." He moves slowly and rests a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "I've seen enough fights for today. Let him go."

Enjolras inhales sharply, but obeys, because when Grantaire uses that tired tone it's hard to ignore. He lets go Montparnasse, and Bossuet quickly pushes him aside. Joly puts himself between the two.

After a moment of silence, Courfeyrac sighs. "Yet… Enjolras had a point. Why  _should_  we let you stay around, Montparnasse?"

Montparnasse straightens his jacket with indifference. "Because it's not your decision. It's Jehan's," he says simply. "If you don't want to see me, it's fine. Really I don't give a damn. But keep your noses out of my relationship, and  _you_ ," he says, looking directly at Courfeyrac, "kindly stop drooling over him. I don't like it, and he doesn't care."

Showing more self-control than Enjolras, Courfeyrac sits still, the ice pack pressed against his eye.

"Out," Musichetta orders, shoving Montparnasse towards the door and out onto the street. "Congratulations. I was on your side, but now I've realized you're just an asshole." She closes the door in his face.

"I owe Combeferre an apology," Enjolras says with a sigh, wrapping his arms around Grantaire's waist and hugging him protectively."He was right. Jehan has a right to know this."

“I don't think Montparnasse will really be able to keep this a secret. I mean, he could say he got into a random fight, but then Jehan would notice Courf's black eye, and…" Grantaire shrugs. Even breathing hurts. Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic. He needs a damn pain killer, and soon. Or another glass of brandy. But asking for it with Enjolras there doesn't seem like a good idea.

"Well, it was going to happen sooner or later." Courfeyrac stands up and stretches, ignoring the way his body protests against the action. "I don't regret it."

Musichetta looks at her boys, who both shake their heads, and gives Courfeyrac a concerned look. "Jehan won't be happy you beat up his boyfriend," she points out kindly.

"I know." Courfeyrac tosses the ice pack away, frustrated. "But I feel better now. It really helped." It should scare him, how much it helped, but he only has the energy to be proud of himself. Maybe that's the whole point of fights. Maybe that's what Bahorel has been trying to tell him all these years. 

Grantaire elbows Enjolras in the ribs, neither subtly nor gently, to tell him to do something. Enjolras sighs. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home as we-" Enjolras grabs Grantaire's hands - "go to the hospital."

"No, don't worry." Courfeyrac waves his hand casually. "You go, I'll head back on my own."

Before Enjolras can protest, Bossuet says, "It's fine. Grantaire needs to have that nose checked out. We'll take care of Courf."

"Grantaire needs painkillers, drinks, and a lot of cuddles," Grantaire corrects.

"I'll turn a blind eye on the drinks, and I'll take care of the cuddles," Enjolras promises, placing a kiss in the mass of Grantaire's curls.

It's times like these, when everything seems calm between their leader and their favorite drunkard, when Musichetta lets herself believe that maybe world peace is somehow possible. Because if those two, who have yelled at each other since day one, are able to love each other, then the leaders of the world can find a way to get on.

“I'm not a child. I can take care of myself, thanks very much," Courfeyrac says rolling his eyes.

 He just wants to go home and forget this day, even though everyone is pretty much okay, and it's not a tragedy (only, it is. And he knows it. He knows Jehan will be devastated by this, and he will never be sorry enough).

Well, Grantaire's nose isn't okay, but he's not mad, so it's fine.

Really, everything is fine.

Except it's not.

Courfeyrac's enters the guest room (actually, it's the second bedroom, because sometimes the golden trio don't actually share the same bed), not noticing the confused looks on his friends' faces, or the fact that he knows the number off by heart.

"I can give you three minutes, but then I have to go back to the conference," Combeferre says from the other end of the line.

Courfeyrac runs a hand over his face. "I fucked everything up this time. After this Jehan's gonna hate me."

There is a long pause. "What did you do?"

And Combeferre listens to the whole story, and Courfeyrac actually tells him why he felt the need to punch Montparnasse, and Combeferre doesn't say a word.

"See, I do stupid things when you're not around."

“I've been away from Paris for a day and half." Combeferre sighs. "I don't think Jehan will hate you. I don't think Jehan is able to hate at all, if it helps."

"Well we'll never be best friends again." Courfeyrac sighs. "I've screwed up for real."

"Don't say that," Combeferre says seriously. "Look, I'll be back tomorrow evening. We can watch all the horror movies you want, I promise. You're a big boy now, you'll be fine."

Courfeyrac laughs. "That sounds…" Then he stops.  _Oh._ So this is why everyone thinks they're spending too much time together.

"Courf?"

"That sounds like a date."

"Obviously it isn't."

"Obviously."

"Everything will be fine, Courf. Relax."

* * *

 

  _"She found me roots of relish sweet,_

_And honey wild, and manna dew,_

_And sure in language strange she said -_

_I love thee true."_

Jehan sighs and closes the book. "Well, I bet that was nice, my dear knight at arms, to hear your loved one say that she loved you. It would be nice once in a while." The cover of the book is old, the edges frayed from years of reading, but there is something perfect in the way it fits in Jehan's hands. 

Jehan knows that he can't ask Montparnasse to display his emotions more, like the subject of the poem, and it's not a problem, because Jehan knows how Montparnasse feels (there are hundreds of way to say I love you without saying it, like when Montparnasse makes pancakes in the morning, even though he doesn't like them, or doesn't move from the sofa for hours, because Jehan just loves to read resting his head on Montparnasse's chest).

It's just that… he would love to hear those words a little more, would love to be able to walk hand in hand on a starry night, or under the trees in a park.

He would love to have someone who shows his enthusiasm for their relationship.

His thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening.

"'Parnasse," he says automatically with a joyful voice. Even though Musichetta has a spare key for emergencies, the only person who comes to his flat at this hour is his boyfriend. " _Parnasse._ " he repeats, this time worried, as soon as he spots the bruises and the split lip.

In few seconds Jehan is next to him, touching his face lightly, with a matching kindness in his eyes. Montparnasse just waits for Jehan's imminent question. "What happened?"

Having had time to get his story straight, Montparnasse shrugs. "Had a fight with Courfeyrac." Yes, Montparnasse's strategy is to tell the truth. Not that he could lie to such a troubled face.

"With Courfeyrac?" Jehan sounds lost (and not angry, as Montparnasse had expected). Jehan just looks at him.

Montparnasse gently takes the poet's hand from his face and squeezes it. "Yes." he moves towards the table, dragging Jehan along.

Finally Jehan seems to register his boyfriend's words. "And why on Earth did my boyfriend have a fight with my best friend?" He lets go of Montparnasse's hand and crosses his arms over his chest. This can't be true. It's like the start of a horrible nightmare.

Now, this is the tricky part. Montparnasse sits down and shrugs. "I guess Courf wanted to punch me for two reasons. One that explains why he wanted to punch me at all, and one that explains why he punched me  _today_."

"Well, go on then," Jehan insists. "But these reasons better be good. Really, really good," he warns with a seriousness that makes him frown.

Montparnasse finds himself unable to look Jehan in the eyes, unable to cope with the silent anger in them. "I said something about you that he didn't like, but it was something true, so I guess he didn't like the way I said it."

"And what did you say?" Jehan asks. Strangely, he can't look at Montparnasse either. He scrunches up the fabric of his jumper in his fist and waits.

"You don't need to know," Montparnasse says carefully.

"Oh yes, I most definitely do need to know," Jehan spat back. "My boyfriend and my best friend had a fight, and I have a right to know why!" His voice echoes around the flat, cold and sharp so unlike his usual soft manner of speaking. What did you say?"

"I said, and I quote, that it took me two kisses to get into your pants."  _And made you sound like a slut probably, but that wasn’t intentional._ Montparnasse still refuses to look at Jehan, this time feeling a hint of guilt.

"And why did you tell him that? What....Courfeyrac - or anybody else for that matter - doesn't need to know the details, 'Parnasse!" Jehan starts to move around the flat, feeling his cheeks heat up. He's blushing, both in embarrassment and frustration. It's the truth, so he can't get mad, but without telling them that it took them two and a half weeks of dates before those two kisses makes it sound wrong.

"I told him because..."  _Because_ _I wanted to hurt him, because I wanted him to know that you're mine._  "Because he loves you, and I'm tired of watching him wanting to take my place."

"Excuse me?" Jehan raises an eyebrow.

Montparnasse stands up and tries to reach for Jehan, but as soon as he moves away from Montparnasse, making clear he's not in a touchy-feely mood, Montparnasse gives up. "He loves you, Jehan. Everybody knows that, except you."

"Courfeyrac is my best friend." Jehan says softly, his voice trembling. "He doesn't…"

" _He does_ ," the younger boy insists. "And it's annoying, okay? Whenever I'm with your little group of friends, he's there looking at me as if I'm some kind of criminal."

"Which you are, by the way," Jehan snaps with a cruelty that is completely out of character for him. But even if he realizes it, he doesn't apologize. He's too busy taking in the knowledge that Courfeyrac is in love with him.

Suddenly he's breathing quickly, his heart beats hard in his chest and he needs to sit down.

"Jehan?" Montparnasse glances at him worriedly as he sits on the edge of the sofa shivering.

"He doesn't love me," Jehan says weakly, hiding his face in his hands. He focuses on breathing. This is exactly what he didn't want to happen and now he's close to some kind of panic attack.

"I know it's new information…" Montparnasse makes the mistake of trying to touch the poet's shoulder, and Jehan quickly strands up and pushes him away.

"And you punched him because he loves me, 'Parnasse?"

"I punched him back because he punched me in the face!" Montparnasse has begun to become exasperated. "I have the right to defend myself."

"Am I supposed to believe that? I sleep with you, I know the way your breathing changes when you fall asleep, I know the way you bite your tongue to hold back a comeback, I know the way you smoke your cigarettes when you are nervous. I know when you lie, don't mock me."

In a way, Montparnasse is flattered by the attention, but he's also aware of his position. "Yes, I'm jealous, and I was happy to have an excuse to punch him."

Jehan nods one time. "Out."

"Oh, here we go again…" Montparnasse sighs. "Come on, I made a mistake, but…"

Jehan's hands are quickly around the collar of Montparnasse's shirt and he pulls him closer, so close that they could kiss easily, but that’s not what happens. "No buts, Monsieur. You knew - more than anyone you knew - how important it was for me to have my friends and my boyfriend get along. And you did your best to make that impossible."

Montparnasse frowns. "You're shaking," he notices, but he's not able to determinate if it's from the anger or something else. "Jehan, babe, calm down, okay? People fight every day. It was between me and him-"

"What about _me_?" A sob escapes Jehan's throat. "Why didn't you two idiots think about how I would feel?" He moves away. 

"Jehan I know I should've and I'm sorry-" Montparnasse starts. 

"Go back to your own house, 'Parnasse," Jehan says, pushing him away. "I can't deal with you right now, okay? We'll talk later."

This is the closest thing to rejection that Montparnasse has ever received, and coming from Jehan? Well, it hurts his pride, and maybe, deep down, it hurts his feelings too. It hurts more than the cut on his eyebrow, if he's honest.

“I'm sorry, Jehan, I really am. Just… remember that, okay?"

"We'll talk later," Jehan says again, voice blank, and response automatic and without interest.

 _One thing at time_. He can't deal with Montparnasse because the one thing on his mind is, dear God, Courfeyrac is in love with him.

He seeks refuge in his room before Montparnasse has left, not having the patience to wait.

 

* * *

 

Combeferre and Enjolras' flat, on the third floor of the building, is always so clean it's practically aseptic, and it would look uninhabited if it wasn't for the books and the papers piled on every possible surface, and labeled by subject or date due.

It look strangely empty without Combeferre at the computer, or on the couch reading, and Grantaire, taking off his coat, asks himself how Enjolras manages the tranquility. Well, it's Enjolras, probably he's enjoying the silence. Fantastic, now he has that stupid tune stuck in his head.

"You should eat before taking the pills," Enjolras says, hanging his coat up and taking Grantaire's, doing his best to ignore the blood that ended up on it. "Any requests?"

"I thought you couldn’t cook," Grantaire replies frowning.

"Let's just say that if I'm left alone I won't starve to death." Enjolras chuckles. "So?"

"I'll go with the more edible things you can cook, then."

The 'most edible thing' Enjolras can cook is a french toast, but Grantaire is too tired - and in pain - to tease him about it, so Grantaire takes the pill and eat his toast lazily, sitting on the couch next to Enjolras.

"You remember when you came back from a protest with a bruise on your left side as big as Bahorel's arm?" Grantaire rests his head on Enjolras' shoulder.

"Yes," the blonde says. It had been a violent protest, the police attacked them and it was probably the only time when Bahorel had some real fun.

"Do you remember the time the police held you overnight, and the morning after you had a black eye because of that dickhead policeman?"

"Yes." Not a pleasant memory.

"Well, now you know how it feels to be worried."

"Are you…" Enjolras frowns. "Are you trying to making me feel guilty for all the protests?" he asks, completely ignoring the fact that he's already feeling sorry.

"Maybe." Grantaire shrugs, not really caring. "I'm telling you that every time you go out there I worry, so maybe next time, let me take care of you?"

They share a look, and then Enjolras nods and Grantaire smiles contentedly. He knows he can't stop Enjolras from doing something stupid, like screaming in the police's faces (and he would never try to stop him - when Enjolras is a hundred percent invested in his cause he’s really really hot), but he can be there for him at the end of the day. That's what matters after all.

"You're a good pillow, you know," Grantaire mutters, his body relaxing as he finally let himself get over the awful day. And then he remembers that he didn't buy that Christmas present. Damn.

"Yes, the way you wrap yourself around me at night was a good hint." Enjolras chuckles

"You never complain, so… you know, until you tell me to stop doing something, I'll keep doing said thing." Grantaire speaks slowly, breathing laboured and through his mouth, even if the pill is already doing its job and somehow his face seems normal.

"Oh please," Enjolras exclaims. "You're stubborn and you never do something if you don't want to." There is a small laugh in his voice.

"With you it's different. I'd do anything for you?" Grantaire says with solemnity, looking at Enjolras. "You just have to ask."

Enjolras kisses Grantaire, carefully and awkwardly to avoid bumping into his nose and cause him even more pain. "You scare me when you talk like this," he admits.

"I scare you?" Grantaire looks perplexed.

"Kinda," the blond says with a sigh. "It's just that you put so much faith and trust in me, and I'm not sure I'm worth it. I'm always scared I'll do something wrong and hurt you. Or that at some point I won't meet all your expectations and…" He stops and sighs again. It's hard to explain the pressure that comes with being adored by Grantaire, the constant feeling of walking on a tightrope, the knowledge that it will take very little to disappoint him.

"All I expect from you is to love me," Grantaire says after almost a minute. "Well, to be honest, at first all I expected from you was to tolerate me, but hey, things went better than expected."

"You know I do," Enjolras whispers with a half smile on his face. "I wouldn't be here otherwise, right?"

Grantaire groans in despair. "This would be the perfect moment to have a heavy and passionate make out session, but we can't thanks to Montparnasse and his awful aim. I am so going to kill him."

Enjolras laughs gently, in a way that sounds somehow distant. "Come here," he instructs and helps Grantaire lie down on the couch, with his head on Enjolras' lap.

Soon, Enjolras' fingers are in Grantaire's curls. "A little better?"

"Yup." Grantaire closes his eyes and smiles like a child. His brain only seems to register Enjolras' fingers in his hair, his nose forgotten, and that's wonderful.

"About Montparnasse. Can I ask you a question?"

"Only if it's not about our sex life."

“Don't worry, I  _really_ don't want to know," Enjolras replies. "He was stopped by the police because he was dealing drugs." He stops, because he sees the smile on his face disappear as Grantaire mutters, "that bloody idiot," under his breath. "Was Montparnasse your dealer, Grantaire?"

The fact of life is that if you make a mistake once, it will haunt you forever, no matter how long ago it happened, or whether you did your best to fix it.

"Yes," he answers, but that's not enough, not for him. "See, it was safer. At least I knew it was good stuff, not some shit that kills you."

To his defense, Enjolras doesn't stop stroking Grantaire's hair, trying to reassure him that he's okay - they're okay - that everything is fine, that he's not judging him. "Is there a possibility you'll start doing drugs again now he's around?"

Grantaire's eyes snap open and looks at Enjolras' concerned face hovering above his. "Not in this life time." He almost says,  _"not as long as I have you,"_ but forcing his own problems upon Enjolras is probably the reason why the blond is scared. He doesn't want to make the man he loves so much bear another weight, when he has to deal with his drinking problem already, and his dark humor, and his artistic crisis,

Enjolras nods simply, for once lost for words, because whatever he's going to say will just sound selfish.

He doesn't speak when Grantaire touches his face with gentle fingers. "I want to paint you," Grantaire says out of the blue, his fingers tracing the features of Enjolras' face gently. "Will you let me?"

"As long as I can keep my clothes on," Enjolras replies with a smile. To be honest, he wouldn't mind taking off his clothes if that means seeing Grantaire painting once more.

"Yes, you can. I'm not so inclined to let a lot of people see you naked, not even in a painting," Grantaire comments, half serious, half joking.

"That's your way to be possessive?"

There is no time for an answer, because Grantaire's phone starts ringing.

"R here," Grantaire answers annoyed, his index finger on Enjolras' lips to prevent him from saying whatever he's going to say.

"I have a little bit of emergency," Montparnasse says directly. "Jehan is locked in his room and I think he's crying."

Grantaire sighs. "Let me guess: you told him about Courf’s feelings?"

"Yes, it was part of the explanation about the mess on my face." Montparnasse let out a tired chuckle. "R seriously, what am I supposed to do?"

"I'd tell you to call Courf, but that would be the worst idea ever." Grantaire hesitates as Enjolras kisses the palm of his hand and Grantaire forgets how to breathe for a second. "He doesn't want to come out of the room?"

"Not until I'm out of the flat, I guess," Montparnasse says. "He told me to go, but… I don't feel like leaving him alone."

"He needs time and words to deal with this." Grantaire is surprised by his own ability to give advice that sounds decent. "Put on his favorite song and make him his favorite tea, and it'll calm him down."

"So anything by Enya and lemon balm tea?" Montparnasse sounds confused. "Are you sure it will help?"

"You know what, 'Parnasse?" Grantaire chuckles. "You just earned 10 points on your boyfriend card."

"And since when do I have a boyfriend card?"

"Now, clearly. Anyway, do it. He'll be in a better mood immediately."

"Thank you, R," Montparnasse says after a few moments. "And about your nose… I really am sorry. You know I never meant to hit you, right? Is Enjolras really pissed off?"

"Yeah. Good luck appeasing the others," Grantaire comments blankly. Of course he's not going to forget any time soon, but he can forgive a mistake, after all."Well, he's doing sweet things with his fingers in my hair, so no, he's not that pissed off." he laughs when Enjolras mouths  _"I am_ _actually."_ "Now, I have to go. Just give Jehan time, okay?"

"I don't have much choice." With that, Montparnasse ends the call.

"Problems?" Enjolras is frowning when Grantaire puts his phone back in his pocket.

"Jehan knows about Courfeyrac." Grantaire shrugs. "What do you think?"

"Problems." Enjolras nods with a sigh. Sometimes he thinks that his relationship with Grantaire, apart from the drinking problem or the total divergence of opinions, is the easiest in their group of friends.

"Problems." Grantaire agrees simply. "Hey, thank you for letting me crash here. I'm definitely not ready to tell Eponine what happened, not now." he can only imagine what her reaction will be, and he knows that the real deal will be far worse.

"You don't have to thank me, okay?" Enjolras resists the urge to kiss Grantaire with difficulty. Why is he feeling all this need to kiss him now that it's better not to? "Tomorrow I'll come with you, for moral support."

"I work tomorrow," Grantaire points out annoyed.

"Even if it's little damage and it's not visible, your nose is broken," Enjolras states with severity. "And you're under the influence of pain killers. You are not going to work tomorrow."

Grantaire rolls his eyes. " _Yes, mother_."

 

* * *

 

There is music coming from the living room, Jehan notices with some surprise. Not even Montparnasse would be so indelicate as to ignore his request to leave.

He goes out to check, moving slowly like he expects to find tigers ready to eat him, and not another civilised human being.

There is not a trace of Montparnasse in the flat, but Enya's voice fills the space like a concrete presence and, somehow, it's a relief. It's a soft, sweet, company.

Jehan is almost tempted to turn the CD player down, just because he's annoyed and he doesn't want to admit that it's a nice gesture, but in the end he moves to the kitchen.

He's not hungry or thirsty, he just needs to do something with his hands, or he'll end up undoing and redoing his braid for the umpteenth time, and when he's nervous he has a tendency to pull his hair too much, and now his scalp hurts.

A mug sits on the table, a cloud of steam coming from it, and a small piece of paper covered with the elegant calligraphy that Jehan knows by heart.

 _They pass before me, these Eyes full of light,_  
Eyes made magnetic by some angel wise;   
The holy brothers pass before my sight,   
And cast their diamond fires in my dim eyes.

 _They keep me from all sin and error grave,_  
They set me in the path whence Beauty came;   
They are my servants, and I am their slave,   
And all my soul obeys the living flame.

Not being the only one leaving poetry around is a relief sometimes (but Jehan is still mad. He's not smiling. His muscles just had a spasm.)

After the poem, a brief note:  _When you want to talk, I'll be there_.

For now, Jehan doesn't want to talk to Montparnasse, even if the image of that cut on the boy's eyebrow is at the forefront of his mind. He's sure it must hurt, and part of him wants to cuddle up with his boyfriend and ease the pain with kisses.

But there are more important matters, like Courfeyrac.

Jehan sighs in despair and takes the mug, drinking without stopping and considering the flavor on his tongue.

What on earth is he going to do with Courfeyrac? He doubts Montparnasse would lie about something like that, plus it would make a lot of sense.

Without knowing, Jehan has hurt Courfeyrac for two months.

"I knew it, _I knew it_ ," Jehan says out loud. "Never,  _never_ bring new people in a group of friends, because - of course - things can only go wrong!"

Jehan starts moving around the flat with the mug in one hand, the other moving in mid air.

"I only wanted to introduce my boyfriend to my friends, see them happy together, and get on with my small, perfect life," he says reaching the bookshelf.

"But of course, life is never easy, is it?" He reads the titles of the books to keep his eyes fixed on something. "Whatever I do, I can't fix this."

What was that quote from Sherlock? Caring is not an advantage?

"Oh," Jehan says sadly. He had watched Sherlock with Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Eponine, wasting an entire day watching the six episodes. At the start of The Hounds of Baskerville, Jehan had fallen asleep curled against Courfeyrac, and he thought it was nice. 

Now he can only ask himself if Courfeyrac was already in love with him by then. Most likely yes.

There's no way to make everyone happy, not this time. And that's something new for Jehan, whose goal in life is to see people happy.

Another problem: how can he look at Courfeyrac and not feel guilty and sorry and sad for him?

About one thing he's sure: he's not going to talk to Courfeyrac, not until he can think about him without feeling the need to cry his eyes out.

The music plays on as he drinks to keep the tears from falling, but it's hard when he can only think about how sad it must have been for Courfeyrac.

He calls Musichetta absently, and when he hears her voice, her soft and young and lovely voice, he starts crying.

“Oh, Jehan." Musichetta must have recognized the number, or probably the way he cries. "You know, then."

"About the fight between my boyfriend and best friend or the fact that Courfeyrac is apparently in love with me? Yeah, I know," Jehan sobs, and tries to blot the tears with the sleeve of his sweater.

"I'm sorry, honey," Musichetta says gently.

So Courfeyrac really is in love with him. A part of him hoped that Musichetta would tell him that Montparnasse lied. "Am I the only one who didn't know?" Jehan curls up on the sofa, almost spilling the tea all over himself.

"Yes, I'm afraid," the girl answers. "But it's not your fault, really, don't blame yourself. Do you want me to come over there?"

Jehan thinks about it for a moment. "No," he decides in the end. "But you can do me a favor."

"Anything." Musichetta speaks with the kindness of a mother most of the time, and yet in her voice there is always a solid resolution.

"Take care of the shop for a few days, okay? I don't feel like coming to work at the moment. I know it's selfish." He really doesn't want to go in because both Montparnasse and Courfeyrac know where he works, and he doesn’t feel like seeing them right now.

"Don't worry," Musichetta says quickly. "I'll bring Bossuet with me, just in case. I have everything under control boss, take your time."

Jehan smiles, tasting tears at the corners of his lips. "You are an angel."

"I might be," Musichetta agrees. "How are you doing with Montparnasse, by the way?"

"I have no idea," Jehan admits. "I told him to leave because I can't deal with him now, so I don't know if we're good, or… I don't know how angry I am with him. I only know that I'd appreciate a hug."

"Look, I was rude to him earlier," Musichetta starts with a sigh. "Honestly, he's an asshole. But he's an asshole who's in love with you, I still think that. I'm sure he didn't want to hurt you, and reacted without thinking. Don't be too mad at him. After all, he did it because he just doesn't like competition." She stops for few seconds. "Actually, I think he's not used to competition at all, not with that face."

Jehan let go a small laugh. "No, I don't think he is. One last thing…" He takes a deep breath. "How long has Courfeyrac been in love with me?"

Musichetta doesn't answer immediately. "It's Courf, so probably since the very beginning of your friendship. He was likely too distracted to notice. You should talk to him."

"Not tonight," Jehan whispers. "I can't deal with him right now. I can barely deal with myself."

"Don't stay alone for too long. You're a creature in need of company," Musichetta points out, but she's not forcing him.

"Don't worry." Jehan smiles, even if she can't see him. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

* * *

 

 

"What the hell happened to you?" Marius stands up from the couch and throws his phone (with a half-finished text to Cosette) between the pillows, as soon as he sees Courfeyrac at the front door.

"Montparnasse," Courfeyrac replies grimly.

"He did that to you?" Marius vaguely gestures towards his flatmate's face. "Does it hurt?"

"No, Marius, I have a black eye and a split lip, but I feel nothing." Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. "And yes, he did do this to me."

"I hope he has a matching black eye," Marius comments seriously.

Courfeyrac grins, moving from the door frame to the kitchen. "You know I'm not the kind to go down without a fight."

Marius grins too. "Good." He follows his friend into the kitchen. "So, you started it?"

Courfeyrac gets a beer from the fridge. "Yeah. He deserved it, though."

"No doubt," Marius agrees, not because he has a personal issue with Montparnasse, but because he can't stand arrogant people.

"He broke Grantaire's nose too," Courfeyrac says, opening the bottle. "But that could've been avoided if I hadn't started the fight."

"What…?" Marius sighs. "Fantastic."

With a cold beer in his hand (because okay, sometimes Grantaire's way is the best way), Courfeyrac crashes down onto the couch. "You missed Enjolras' reaction. I swear, he was going to destroy him." He laughs, even if he's not sure when that laugh comes from.

"I'll bet he was," Marius says, his tone slightly worried. "So, why'd you start a fight with him?"

"Because he's a disrespectful little shit." Courfeyrac takes a sip from the beer. "He talked about Jehan like some common whore. He's supposed to love him, you know? To adore him, to speak only about love when it comes to him, to treat him like the most important being in the whole universe. But instead… he… I don't know what the hell he does."

Marius listens, for the first time in months, he listens and he's there for Courfeyrac and he knows he should have been there before. "Then he deserved it."

From the pillows, Marius' phone rings with a text, and he wastes one minute trying to find it.

 **Joly:**  Courfeyrac and Montparnasse had a fight, try to help Courf.

 **Joly:**  Musichetta says that Jehan knows about Courf's feelings.

 **Joly:**  Do not tell Courfeyrac.

Marius stares at the text for a moment, and something tells him that Joly is wrong. He knows Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac would like to know something like that. And how long can they keep that a secret?

Maybe it’s not the best moment, Marius agrees, but they're talking about Courfeyrac’s feelings, and he has the right to know.

“Courf?”

"Mh?"

"Jehan knows everything," Marius says simply, because some things don't need a long explanation.

Courfeyrac sighs, and rests the cold beer against his black eye. “Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah this chapter, I've been waiting ages to write it and finally it's here! I can't believe it!
> 
> A big thank you to everyone because you have been so patient for this update.
> 
> Special thanks to Eda because [she made a graphic about the fic](http://enjolpollo.tumblr.com/post/53558294897) and I absolutely love it!
> 
> I remind you that you can always find me at [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/), where I even make text posts about the fic and accept drabbles prompts!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grantaire talks with Eponine, Combeferre and Courfeyrac obviously don't have a date, Musichetta and Bossuet take care of Jehan's shop, and Jehan talks with Montparnasse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so the mistakes are all mine, plus I am laughing over some jokes about the rains of castamere, so sue me I am not paying the attention I should at the chapter.

Grantaire stops in front of the door of his flat, taking the keys from his pocket with a sigh that makes Enjolras frowns.

“Are you okay? he asks resting a hand between Grantaire's shoulder blades.

"She will punch me." Grantaire says and it's not a fear, it's something that will surely happen. "It will hurt."

"She's your best friend, I doubt she will." Enjolras comments with an encouraging smile.

"She's my best friend, I know her. She will." Grantaire points out opening the door.

Eponine is wearing nothing but a pair of Grantaire's sweatpants and a hoodie opened in the front that shows her purple bra: everything in her clothes screams _'just woke up, too early to function'_ even if it's almost noon.

"Oh look who is back!" Eponine exclaims towards Grantaire. "What's the hell happened to your face?" then she waves a hand to Enjolras, who looks definitely uncomfortable with the percentage of skin showed by Eponine. Or maybe it's the bra. It's not used to bras.

"Someone punched me because I was stupid enough to try to stop a fight." Grantaire explains trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

Eponine crosses her arm o her chest, "Stupid indeed, who was fighting?"

"Courfeyrac and Montparnasse." Grantaire replies and he regrets it immediately because Eponine looks at him like he just killed someone.

Then Eponine sighs and zips the hoodie -which a big relief from Enjolras-. "So it happened."

"Yes, can't say I wasn't expecting this." Grantaire admits.

"Who punched you?" Eponine asks, but something in the grave tone of her voice makes clear that she knows already the answer.

 "Parnasse. It was an accident."

Eponine laughs. "Are you fucking kidding me? An accident?" she shakes her head. "R, when he punches someone is not an accident, _I know_."  And her voice trembles, for just one second, but it does, showing how deep the scar really is.

"This time was an accident, _I know_." Grantaire replies calmly, surprising all the three of them.

"Enjolras?" Eponine calls, her dark eyes moving to the blonde guy. "Go out."

Enjolras frowns. "Excuse me?"

"Go out, I need to talk with R and I don't want you around." the girl says without explaining.

Before Enjolras can say anything, Grantaire fills the small silence. "It's okay, Enjolras. Thank you for taking care of me, but if Eponine wants to unleash hell, you better not be here."

"Are you sure?" Enjolras asks gingerly, not quite understanding what's going on between the other two: it's like they know something he doesn't know, which wouldn't be strange, after all, nobody know Combeferre better than him, so it's only natural that the same is for Grantaire and Eponine.

"Yes, I can take care of myself." Grantaire replies with a small smile. "Don't get too bored without me."

"I'll call you later." Enjolras promises with a gentle kiss on Grantaire's lips. "Don't shake him up too much, 'Ponine, he's under painkillers." he adds to the girl with a warning look.

When Enjolras is out, Eponine let out a shaking breath, and Grantaire rolls his eyes. "He's going to screw up everything, R." Eponine starts. "He's poison, you know it. Since he came around our lives are hell!"

"That's a little bit of an exaggeration." Grantaire comments walking to the kitchen to take a beer.

"Don't make me start a list." Eponine warns, her right index pointed at the dark aired boy. "It's pretty long. Plus, how long we tried to get away from our pitiful life? He was one of the reasons, R."

"For you." Grantaire points out shrugging. "I've slept with him even when I was away from said life."

"Which is not a topic I want to discuss." Eponine admits too quickly. "Seriously, he doesn't fit."

"We didn't fit either, but we tried." Grantaire bites his bottom lip and gives Eponine a quick look. "Do you remember that pitiful life or not, 'Ponine? Come on, we were so fucking high all the time that we barely remember the last years of school. We were like him."

Eponine doesn't argue with that, because she clearly remembers it, she remembers when she was robbing houses with her father, Montparnasse celebrating a a well done robbery leaving hickeys on her tender neck, she remembers drink and smoking and nothing else for entire days and nights.

"But we got out of that life, and we had each other. You had me every time you felt alone, unsure and not loved." Grantaire says gently and the beer is forgotten somewhere, after all he is cutting his drink. "And I had you every time I was so frustrated because I couldn't paint, or when I was a mess because I was sure Enjolras hated me."

Eponine looks at her feet: she doesn't like the sound of Grantaire's voice, like the voice of an elder brother comforting her.

"If Jehan is Montparnasse's way to get out of that life, we are not allowed to prevent him from getting a better life like we did."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Eponine finally says. "Are you sure you are not in love with Montparnasse? Sometimes you act like an over protecting boyfriend, always on his side."

Coming from someone else, Grantaire would get mad, but he laughs because it's Eponine. "I love only Enjolras, don't worry." he hugs Eponine tightly. "I promise to you, I will not get him close to you if you don't want to, but even he deserves a chance."

Eponine pulls away from the hug shoving Grantaire away. “I have no idea how can you still be friends with someone that punched Courfeyrac in the face. Who punched you…who punched _me_!”

Grantaire sighs, maybe it was better to go to work. “Because I can forgive a fucking error, okay? I’m in no position to judge someone else!”

Eponine shakes her head and walks away. “I’ll be in my room, don’t try to talk to me until the painkillers stop working and your mind is clear, because obviously, you are not thinking straight!”

Well, she didn’t punch him in the face, he can say it went better than expected, after all.   
  


* * *

  
  


It doesn't only sounds like a date, but it even looks like one, Courfeyrac notices watching Combeferre's back as he moves in front of the stove, filling two plates with food.

Because bless Combeferre, he's just back from a trip, he's dead tired, his head hurts, he need to take a nap in his bed, and yet he cooked his legendary couscous just to cheer Courfeyrac up.

For someone who spends all his free time with his nose buried in the books, Combeferre has an extraordinary ability to do anything that requires some manual ability perfectly, cooking being one of these things.

It's a special talent, that still surprises his friends (and that saved Enjolras from starving a lot of times).

Having Combeferre cooking for you, it's a big deal: he only cooks for birthdays or when people get out of the hospital (as Grantaire knows too well), so Courfeyrac knows that he's little fight with Montparnasse is not worth the couscous.

And this is so domestic, and natural, and ... _goddammit Courfeyrac you just punched a guy in the face because you are in love with Jehan and you are thinking about how this looks like a date, there is definitely something wrong with you_!

Well, having a date while he's still in love with Jehan wouldn't be that bad, considering he had a threesome while crying over how unfair his life is less than two months ago.

They eat in the living room, warm plates in one and hand and fork in the other, sitting on the couch and watching Zombieland with Courfeyrac keeps quoting in perfect timing with the characters, even if his mouth is full of couscous -and that's okay, he's in good mood- and Combeferre saying smart things now and then, leaving most of the talk to his friend.

And this is not a date, because otherwise Courfeyrac's arm would be around Combeferre's shoulder and he would flirt, but he's no doing that, and they are sitting on the two ends of the couch to be more comfortable.

Combeferre is extremely quiet even for his standards, so it's normal that when he finally speaks with his calm, reasonable voice, he talks about the subject that matters and not some stupid movie.

"Did you speak with Jehan?"

"No." Courfeyrac answers with a sigh. "And I don't plan to do it. He wasn't supposed to know about my feelings for him."

"But now he knows, you can't just ignore it, can you?" Combeferre asks worried that Courfeyrac would do it, bottling up his feelings even more.

"Well, he's ignoring it, and I am fine with it!" honestly, it wouldn’t be that bad, to never talk again about his fight with Montparnasse, or his feelings for Jehan. Forget everything, that’s what he needs.

"Are you? The guy you love finds out about your feelings, he says nothing, and you are okay with it?"  there is a skeptic tone in Combeferre’s voice that usually it fits Grantaire, with less mockery.

"It's better than..." Courfeyrac stops and looks at his shoes -woah, he needs to clean them, or change the strings-. "Than having is pity, because it's Jehan and he will be so sorry and...I can't handle see Jehan sad knowing it's my fault."

"It's not your fault, Courfeyrac. And it's Jehan he will never blame you for being in love." Combeferre truly believes it: if someone understands how complicated love can be, it’s Jehan.  
Maybe Combeferre needs to talk with Jehan about love, he needs someone to say him the same thing, to say him that being in love with a friend it’s not despicable.

Not that Combeferre is in love with Courfeyrac, of course.  
It’s a crush that will fade away as soon as they will stop see each other so much.

"He can blame me because I still punched his boyfriend.” Courfeyrac points out simply.   
No, he doesn’t regret it yet.

"Who punched you back." Combeferre’s tone is sharp, his eyes fixing on Courfeyrac’s black eyes. If he’s honest with himself, he’s bothered by that black eye more then he should, because Courfeyrac deserved it since he started everything, but at the same time Courfeyrac didn’t deserve it at all.   
If he’s honest, his patience is almost to its limit, how long it will take before everyone else start to realize that Montparnasse is no good for the whole group, not only for Jehan?

For a moment Courfeyrac stares at the other surprised, it’s rare to see Combeferre so irritated by something. "See, this situation is totally shit." He cut short with a shrug.

"It's bad, but try to focus on the positive implications of this.” Combeferre starts but Courfeyrac stops him immediately with an odd look.

"There are positive implications?"

"Jehan knows, you can stop pretending. You can stop faking smiles when your eyes show how lonely you feel." Combeferre says simply

Courfeyrac is surprised that the other noticed. "It's so obvious?"

"I've known you for a lot of time, Courf. For me it's obvious." Combeferre hates the intonation of his voice, it’s not caring or cornered or sympathetic, it’s _sweet_.

"I'm trying not to feel down for this story I swear..." he keeps telling everyone that, but truth is that trying is not enough. It’s not his fault if he feels like his whole happy future has been take away from him.   
It’s silly, he knows, it was only his head, but for someone not able to create a stable connection with a human being, thinking that he could have been with Jehan was a relief.  
But no, he will probably end up alone, miserable and pathetic.

"It's okay. Just because you are the one who makes jokes and keeps everyone together, it doesn't mean you cannot feel down sometimes." Combeferre rests an hand over Courfeyrac’s shoulder, holding the plate with the other.

"It's been months. I am starting to feel tired of feeling like this.” As every time Combeferre touches him, Courfeyrac seems to relax. It’s not good.

"Jehan it's your truly first love, you put your whole heart in this. This wasn't a game like all your flirt. I doubt you even know how to deal with this in the first place."

"Clearly, I don't."

"No, you don't. And it's okay, this things doesn't come with an instruction manual."

"Says the man who rely on written words." Courfeyrac gives to the other an amused look.

"Sarcasm is a good thing in this moment." Combeferre smiles, just a little.

"Sorry. I am just worried things will never go back as they were." That Jehan will never be comfortable around him anymore, that Jehan will always thinks twice before saying something.  
Courfeyrac is worried to lose his best friend.

"They will not. Life is fluid, life is change, you can't expect things to stay the same for years, it would be madness.” Combeferre explains gently. Seems like his voice, when he’s talking with Courfeyrac, cannot remain free of inflections of affection.

"What if things were better before?" Courfeyrac asks seriously.

"Well, changing is not always easy to accept, but the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can move on." Suddenly Combeferre realizes that his hand in still on Courfeyrac’s shoulder and he slowly move it away. "You can still fix everything with Jehan, there is no secrets between you anymore, it's a good thing. He's still your best friend, and I'm sure he wants to still be it."

“Thank you.” Courfeyrac smiles and notices that they missed a good part of the movies, so he looks back at Combeferre. "What if we start another one? This was too classy anyway."

Combeferre nods. "Put the DVD on, I'll wash the dishes."

"You don't have to, you know? Leave them in the sink, Marius will wash them tomorrow." Courfeyrac says standing up at the same time with the other.

"And do you know Marius is your not your housemaid?" Combeferre retorts with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh god, now I am picturing Marius with a french maid dress..." Courfeyrac comments and it's not a good picture: black is not Marius' color and he's sure the boy would trip over any kind of heel, probably falling face first on the floor.

"You mean: you are picturing Marius is some kind of fetish french maid dress." Combeferre corrects blankly.

"How do you know? Courfeyrac frowns and turn to the other. "What's wrong with you people? Stop reading my mind."

"Maybe..." Combeferre starts gently. "If you start using some filter between your thoughts and what you tell us, we will stop."

Courfeyrac decides that yes, he should really add a filter if all of his friends seems to know what's going on in his mind. "Whatever!" he says instead and pushes Combeferre to the kitchen. "Leave them in the sink, I'll wash them in the morning -I promise."

The next film is a classic for a trash night, The Mangler, alias the film where the blood is fake and the plot is ridiculous, even if Stephen King is responsible for it.

Combeferre knows every line because Grantaire and Courfeyrac always insists they have to watch it every single time and really, he's so tired that he doesn't care if his eyes are closing after twenty minutes and he's not paying attention to Courfeyrac's commentary.

It takes Courfeyrac good ten minutes in the second half of the film to understand that Combeferre is basically sleeping (he’s still able to say one or two words in answer of some of Courfeyrac’s questions, which is incredible.) and he notices only because Combeferre's head hit his shoulder.

"Man, what's the problem with you and Enjolras? You can stay awake for days doing boring stuff, then something funny happens and you fall asleep." He moves slowly, helping Combeferre to lay down on the couch, surprised that the other doesn't wake up in the middle of the maneuver. "Not that I can blame you." Courfeyrac adds with a softer voice.

"I mean, you came right here after hours of train just because I was sulking like a child and...” he stops  because he did nothing to deserve all this attentions. “Yes, okay, you can sleep here." he decides because, after all, Combeferre did the same for him and it's only right to set the score. He even cover him with the warmest blanket in the house (which belongs to Marius, but he's not there to stop him), tucks him like a baby, carefully puts aside his glasses, and kisses his forehead.   
Everything for his friends.

He sits on the floor, his back on the couch and goes back at watching the movie, because a sleeping Combeferre will not stop him.

 **Courfeyrac:** Combeferre asleep on my couch. I'll send him back in the morning.

 **Enjolras:** Take care of him for me, would you?

 **Courfeyrac:** Sure. How's Grantaire's nose?

 **Enjolras:** He's still complaining.

 **Courfeyrac:** He will complain for a long time.

 **Enjolras:** Next time try not to get into a fight and he will not complain.

 **Courfeyrac:** Are you angry with me?

 **Enjolras:** You are lucky I am more angry with Montparnasse.

 **Courfeyrac:** Montparnasse wins at everything, I hate him.

 **Enjolras** : Yes, we know.

The noise of the front door unlocking distracts Courfeyrac from his phone that casts a blue shadow over his face, and quickly he puts a finger over his lips. "'Ferre is sleeping." he warns.

Marius nods immediately and tries to move more slowly and with more grace around the flat, which means in ten second he's tripping over his own feet, ending up against the nearest wall with a loud thump.

"Pontmercy I have no words." Courfeyrac comments suppressing a vigorous laugh only because of the boy resting behind him and, honestly, he's going to kill whoever wakes Combeferre from his well earned sleep before dawn.

Marius sighs and recollect himself. "Sorry." he says, patting the wall in a silent apology. "How what the night?" he asks sitting next to his flatmate, without problems this time.

"Good. He's a sweetheart." Courfeyrac replies going back to the movie. "Really, I start to think I would be lost without him."

"You'd probably be." Marius agrees with nodding. "I may be a disaster, but Courfeyrac you are improvising with your whole life. Combeferre is good for you. A sort of guide."

“I chose my friends well." it's all Courfeyrac says, because Marius is right, he's improvising, going out to drink, flirting and ignoring college and real life, and Combeferre is probably the best thing that could happen to someone like him.

After Jehan of course.  
  


* * *

 

If someone loves braiding hair as much as Jehan does, that's Bossuet: since he officially declared himself bald (he remembers the day and the month and mark it on the calendar every year) he started to pay a lot of attention to Musichetta's hair, not having the opportunity to take care of his own.

So, it's totally normal that Musichetta is sitting on the desk of the flower shop, and Bossuet is braiding her hair with gentle fingers and a precision that more than one time made Jehan envious.

"We should send Joly a picture." Bossuet says. "It's a shame he can't see you right now."

Musichetta laughs and turns her head enough to see the other with the corner of her eyes. "Go on then."

"No, wait." the boy says running towards a vase and taking out a pink rose. He turns back to the girl and offers it to her with a smile. "Jehan would never forgive me if he knows that I've left a pretty girl without a flower."

Musichetta takes the rose with a bright smile and brings it to her nose, the gentle scent making her smile even more. "Thank you." she replies honestly and leans forwards to kiss Bossuet.

"Uhm, am I interrupting something?" a voice calls from the main door, both Bossuet and Musichetta turn to see Marius standing  awkwardly (not that Marius would stand in any other way) on the door frame.

"Marius!" Musichetta exclaims jumping from the counter. "What are you doing here?"

"Buying flowers...?" Marius replying looking around at the sea of flowers around the shop.

"Well, yes, I think that that makes sense." Musichetta nods, suddenly remembering that she's supposed to be working, not having a nice time with one of her boyfriends.

"For Cosette?" Bossuet asks happily.

"Of course they are for Cosette!" Musichetta says. "Marius would never buy flowers for someone else, _right_?" she asks directly to the boy with a piercing look.

"Of course not!" Marius replies. "I want to make her a surprise, I want to wait for her at the exit of the daycare with the biggest bouquet of flower she ever saw."

"That's romantic, Cosette will love it!" Musichetta says taking Marius' arms under hers and going around the shop. "What's her favorite flower? Her favorite color? We are going to do something spectacular!"

Since Musichetta is a woman of honor, she really does something spectacular for Cosette, for her friend with the long blonde hair and lovely smile, and above all, for the girl that seems able to bring the best out of everyone.  

The three of them move around like in a perfect dance, choosing flowers and laces as Marius is trying to come up with something sweet to write in the card.

They pick up yellow and white flowers, and Musichetta wraps them in a lilac paper, with Bossuet telling her to be careful with the scissor with a warm whisper against her ear.

Marius looks happy like a child as he takes the flowers, they are perfect, just like Cosette.

"Gosh boy." Musichetta says smiling. "Look at you, all in love. Why don't you just ask her to marry you already?"

Marius becomes a bright shade of red. "What? Oh God, no!" he says. "I mean! I would love to marry her, she's the best girl in the world, but..." he looks around embarrassed. "Maybe she doesn't want to marry me!"

"I think she'll be more than happy to become Madame Pontmercy." Bossuet replies sharing an eloquent look with Musichetta.

"Y-you think?" Marius smiles like an idiot, and he keeps smile that way, his mind lost in a realms made of love, when he leaves the flower shop.

"The boy is more innocent than Jehan." Musichetta says with a small laugh.

"It's actually really cute." Bossuet says

"Not as cute as you.”  Musichetta throws her arms around Bossuet's neck. "So, are we still sending Joly a picture?"

Bossuet smiles, but his eyes catches the door opening. "I think no." he says.

Musichetta turns her head and rolls her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asks to the boy at the door.

Montparnasse stares at the couple and shrugs. "Hoping to see Jehan, I guess."

Bossuet keeps a protective arm around Musichetta's waist, who sighs slowly. "He's taking few days off."

"He's feeling that bad?" Montparnasse asks cautious.

"What did you expect?" Musichetta exclaims, her voice high. "You told him that Courfeyrac loves him, he doesn't know what to do. With either of you."

"I know, but it's been two days and he's not talking to me." Montparnasse explains. "I am worried."

" _Honey_." Musichetta says with just a little bit of mocking in her voice. "He called me crying, he took this very bad. We are talking about Jehan, he wants everybody happy and now he knows that someone is unhappy because of him, it's his worst nightmare."

"Yes, I know." Montparnasse sighs, avoiding the unimpressed glances coming from the pair. "Look, can you just make sure he's okay and let me know?"

Musichetta frowns, but nods anyway. "Yeah, sure, I will. Honestly I don't think isolation suits Jehan, or not talking with you will do any good to him at the moment."

"Thank you, Musichetta." Montparnasse tries to smile, he really does, but his eyes, always filled with a mischievous light, are empty. "I know you don't like me, so this means a lot."

"You are lucky I am a sweetheart." the girl points out.

"Jehan can't shut up about how lovely you are." Montparnasse is able to put a charming smile on his face. "Just tell him that I'm waiting and that..." _that I love him_. "That I miss him, okay?"

Musichetta nods. “Sure. Now you can go.” she says before trying her best to look busy.

Montparnasse doesn’t let her tell him twice and leaves the shop without saying a proper goodbye.

“Musichetta.” Bossuet starts. “Don’t you think Jehan should talk with Courfeyrac first?” he says worried.

The girl bites her bottom lip, Bossuet has a point, the two should really talk. “He’s still his boyfriend.” she says looking at the boy. “He’s priority.”  
  


* * *

  
  


It doesn't rain, but the sky is full of black clouds, which means the park is almost desert, only exceptions are people jogging and people with their dogs, none of them looking happily.

Then there is a boy sitting on a bench that looks lonely, but not really that unhappy -the only hint is the way his eyes are fixed in front of him in the distance-, more like he's waiting or thinking, or remembering.

"The trees look better in spring." someone says approaching the boy on the bench.

"I think they fit the mood." the boy on the bench replies.

"You know, for someone who is not a romantic, finding you here is very cliché." the boy that still stands in front of the bench points out.

"Because I knew that I would find someone very romantic here." finally the boy on the bench looks up to the other and smirks.

Jehan shakes his head and sits next to Montparnasse, trying to ignore the way the other is staring at him. "I should have called earlier."

"It doesn't matter." Montparnasse replies honestly. "I've left you in a hell of a situation, I understand."

"Do you?" Jehan snaps, turning his head towards the other. "Do you know what it means knowing that I've been hurting my best friend for months?"

"No." the younger admits quickly.  For once he doesn’t find the strength to get into an actual argument.

"Exactly, you don't." Jehan says harshly. "And you also don't know what it means knowing that you can't trust your boyfriend around your best friend anymore because they don't get along, and actually, they get into fights."

"About that I am sorry." Montparnasse says quickly. "I promise it will never happen again."

"No it will not." Jehan remarks and it sounds like a menace. "It was silly in the first place. What were you thinking? I'm not some prize you can win in a fight."

"We never thought that!" Montparnasse replies indignantly. "It wasn't about you personally, okay? It was about my jealousy and Courfeyrac's ideas that I am not a fitting boyfriend."

"Can you blame him?" Jehan asks and arches his eyebrow and  Montparnasse never saw him so distant and cold and drained of all good sentiments. "Because I don't."

"Jehan..." the younger frowns. He tries to talk few times, but without success. His senses are awake and alarmed. "Are you breaking up with me?"

The poet shrugs and looks away because something in Montparnasse's face looks twisted and already broken. "No." he stops for a few seconds. "But if we are going to do this, we are going to do this like adults, not like two people who have no clue about what they are doing."

Montparnasse simply nods, and for once, he feels younger than Jehan, he feels like he's missing something about the real world that makes the poet so wise.

"So you'll deal with you jealousy because I don't need it, I don't find it flattering, I don't think it's a healthy behavior." Jehan orders looking back at the other. "Then you stop with the lies and the secrets."

"That's not a good idea." Montparnasse mutters and he puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket because the air is suddenly colder.

"It is." the poet says. "I promise not to judge, but you have to tell me everything."

"You will not like it." Montparnasse warns finding himself unable to look in Jehan's eyes.

"I don't care." Jehan shrugs. "I am tired of half-truth and promises,  I am tired of guessing where you are when you don't call for two nights in a row, I am tired I finding things when it’s too late."

"Fine." Montparnasse sighs and sits straight, preparing a speech he doesn't want to make. "Well you know about the robberies and yes, I was drug dealing when the police stopped me and Babet. The motel job It's just a cover, all the people who works there are part of the gang. I met Eponine because her father is our boss, and we had a thing because we were both young and our life sucked. Then I screw up everything because I clearly have an anger issue and I hit her." he stops to check Jehan's reaction, to give him time to say something, but he doesn't.

"She moved with Grantaire after that. I had a thing with Grantaire too, you know stress relief and drunk sex kinda of thing, and it happens that I am the one who gave him drugs."

At this Jehan stops breathing for a second. "You didn't." his voice is so low and he sounds like he's crying. And maybe he would cry in any other moment, because he still remembers nights at the hospital that he would love to forget.

"I did." Montparnasse takes a deep breath. "But in my defense I never tried to sell him drugs again after he told me he was done with them."

"Oh how noble." Jehan comments, a hint of anger in his voice.

"He's fine, okay? I didn't kill him, so don't treat me like that." the younger warns. "Oh, and all your friends heard the story from Grantaire, which means they hate me because they are waiting the day you will show up with a black eye at the Musain."

Jehan frowns. "Could that happen?"

"I don't want that to happen." Montparnasse replies ashamed. "I would never do that to you, Jehan."

"Why?" Jehan asks simply. Whatever he's thinking or feeling, for once is well locked inside him, leaving his face clear and calm. "You hit Eponine, what makes you so sure you will not hit me?"

"Because I love you." Montparnasse says because it's the only thing that matters at the moment, the only thing that matters to Jehan. Because it's _true_ , even if he still pretends he doesn’t most of the time.

It's the right thing to say, Jehan's features seems to become more gently now that the silent anger is gone.

"Because as long as you are okay with it, I wanna keep you." Montparnasse adds taking one of Jehan's hands in his and bringing it to his lips. "The only reason why I punched Courfeyrac is because I am scared that you will realize that I am not good for you and you will leave me."

"Don't say that." Jehan whispers. "I'm not going to leave you any time soon."

"Why?" Montparnasse asks, his attention on Jehan's hand as he kisses each knuckles and for once he doesn't care that someone could see them.

"Because i love you." Jehan replies with a smile.

Montparnasse smiles back and kisses Jehan on the mouth  and it' feels like coming home. "Did you talk with Courfeyrac?"

Jehan shakes his head and rests it on the younger's shoulder. "I am not ready."

"You will have to talk with him soon or later." Montparnasse says gently and it's easy to get back to the usual way of talking, like if nothing just happened.

"I know." Jehan sighs. "It's just..."

"Jehan" the younger calls. "It's not like you can break his heart again, the damage is done, if you talk with him, things will only get better between you two."

Jehan looks at Montparnasse and kisses him again, gently. "Thank you for saying the right things in the right moments."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is so far away from what I wanted.  
> Anyway the next should make up for this because it's heartbreaking.  
> You can guess what will happen in that.
> 
> Remembers that you can find me at [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/) and that my askbox is always open!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Musichetta worries about Jehan, Bahorel and Feuilly decide to tell everyone about their affair, Musichetta talks with Jehan, Jehan and Eponine have a very -too- short conversation, and finally Jehan and Courfeyrac talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same disclamer as always: english is not my first language, so if you see mistakes and errors, it's me and I am really really sorry.

Grantaire places the mugs on the table, balancing the tray over his left arm as he moves around his friends: at first it was strange to have them at the Musain during his shifts, but they ( read Courfeyrac and Bahorel ) stopped making fun of him, so it's okay.

And he has a good excuse to ignore whatever they say and not to get into an unnecessary argument with Enjolras.

The last mug is Enjolras' order, and Grantaire deliberately move slower, to have the time to steal a kiss from the blonde who, as always, let him do so (Enjolras will never admits that he likes the extra attention, because Grantaire is working, and he shouldn't kiss a customer, it's not ethic.)

"Go back to work instead of snogging the customers!" Eponine exclaims slapping Grantaire's ass as he passes by.

"You should go and change, your shift starts in ten minutes." Grantaire replies poking his tongue out at his flat mate.

"Ten minutes is a lifetime." Eponine shrugs waving his hands nonchalantly as the other moves to another table.

"Can we focus on the meeting?" Enjolras asks slowly turning his deadly gaze towards Eponine into a curious looks to his friend.

"Actually..." Musichetta starts -because nobody has enough guts to ignore Enjolras like she does- "Can we focus on the fact that Jehan has been avoiding the meetings for a whole week?"

There is a heavy silence around the table at the question:  Jehan is nowhere to be seen a week and one protest later, and everyone is starting to get worried. To be honest, they miss his smile and his happy mood.

"Is he coming to work?" Eponine asks frowning.

"No, he called me two days ago saying he was sorry, but he didn't feel like coming back to work yet." Musichetta explains gently.

"Well, it's obvious why." Courfeyrac says with a sigh. "He's trying to avoid me and he knows how much I like spending time at the shop.”

"Don't say that." Combeferre rests a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "He's not avoiding you."

“He is." Courfeyrac insists giving a sharp look to his friend. "It's my fault, okay? He'd rather stay away that face me..."

"Yeah probably," Bahorel comments with an approving nod from Feuilly. "But you are both adultS, it's stupid to avoid you. He can't stop meeting his friends because of you."

"It's what he's doing." Courfeyrac mutters sulking like a child. "Probably I should stop coming here, so he will come back and, let's face it, we all need him more than me, you will not miss me too much."

"Especially, don't say _that_." Combeferre orders. "Courfeyrac do you really think we value you less than Jehan?"

Courfeyrac turns his head to his friend and sees his face reflected on the glass lenses: he looks pathetic. "I know that if I had to chose, I'd rather have him."

"You are in love that doesn't count." Enjolras cut short, maybe too harshly, but they don't need a rant from Courfeyrac in this moment.

"Do we know if he's seeing Montparnasse?" asks Cosette gently.

"Yes." Grantaire replies from two tables down, where he's cleaning the surface. "They are back together."

"Then he's avoiding _only_ me." Courfeyrac comments and he barely feel pain when his forehead hit the surface of the table, anyway he clearly feels Combeferre' hand patting his back.

"Someone should go and talk with Jehan." Enjolras decides. "Who wants to try?"

"I think I should go." Musichetta says with a shrugs. "I have the key to his flat, if he doesn't want to let me enter."

"Good, do it as soon as possible, _please_." Enjolras says and in the last word he's able to show how worried he is. "So, now can we focus on..."

"Wait!" Bahorel interrupts ignoring Enjolras' quiet and discreet facepalm. "I have two things to say."

"Go on." Enjolras he's really going to break down and cry if they don't talk about the next protest very soon.

Bahorel share a look with Feuilly, wraps an arm around the ginger's shoulder and grins "First: Feuilly and I are dating. Kinda."

Kinda, because they aren’t dating: they are living together, basically.  
Kinda, because one day they can’t take their hands off of each other, and other day they act like nothing ever happened.

"Oh my God!" Cosette exclaims with happiness and she leaves her spot to hug the two boys. "It's such a good news! I am happy for you guys!"

"I believed you two were straight. I mean when I kissed you two years ago you punched me." Courfeyrac comments. "What happened, have you been two shot by gay cupid?"

"Bite me, Courfeyrac." Bahorel replies giving the other the finger.

"Nah ,you would like it now, sorry." Courfeyrac grins and everyone laughs.

“He’s actually right.” Feuilly says shrugging.

"So you decided to tell us, good Bahorel!" Grantaire shouts ignoring the customers paying for her drink .

"Wait, what's the second thing?" Marius asks curious.

"I will fight in a pro team in London, I'm moving there in January."

Suddenly nobody wants to laugh anymore.

"Are you going with him?" Bossuet asks focusing his attention to Feuilly.

"What? No." Feuilly force himself to laugh -fuck Bossuet and his question, he was feeling happy two seconds ago. "For what I care he can get killed in London, I'll stay here and safe."

"It's nice to know how much you worry." Bahorel chuckles missing completely the real meaning of the ginger's sarcasm, instead he places a kiss just under his ear.

"We should give you a goodbye party." Musichetta suggests.

"Yes! We can do it at New Year's Eve!" adds Joly cheerfully.

"We can discuss it later!" Enjolras says. "There is work we have to do."

 

* * *

 

Musichetta rings the bell of Jehan's place really hoping that Montparnasse will not be the one opening the door: things are awkward between them, and for how much she has nothing against the boy, she simply cannot ignore the feels that his relationship with Jehan is the only healthy and not toxic thing about him.

Love is complicated, she knows better than anyone because nobody seems to understand how can she possibly love two boys, so she's promised herself to be on Jehan's side; but she's worried and she doesn't like to get worried.

For two minutes she stares at the closed door shifting her weight from a feet to the other: when she's ready to use her emergency key, the door opens.

Jehan doesn't look like someone who has been avoiding his friends for a week, he looks healthy, rested, he has even flowers in his hair and Musichetta doesn't know if it's a good or a bad thing.

"Musichetta." Jehan smiles. "I am so happy to see you." Musichetta finds herself wrapped in skinny arms and she hug the boy back.

"Same here, Jehan. Can I come in?"

"Sure!" Jehan brings her inside holding her hand, not stopping smiling. "How are you? And Joly and Bossuet?"

Musichetta decides to play along for now. “I am fine, so are my boys.” She replies with a smile taking off her coat. “I have a news you wouldn’t believe.”

Jehan looks at her a little bit surprised, taking her coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. “Do tell.”

Musichetta smirks like someone who knows a really big secret. “Bahorel and Feuilly are dating.”

“What?” Jehan stares at the girl with his mouth slightly open. “Bahorel and Feuilly? Are you sure? The same Bahorel and Feuilly who both claimed to be totally straight?”

“The very same.” Musichetta announces with a big grin.

“I knew Feuilly had a crush on Bahorel _, I knew it!_ ” Jehan exclaims happily. He doubted about Bahorel, but it’s always good to know that new loves are blossoming between his friends. “Who told you?”

“They told us at the meeting today.” Musichetta explains, then she makes a perfect pause during which she drops her smile and looks at the other seriously. “You would have known if you were there with us.”

Jehan looks down embarrassed. “I am sorry I…”

“Jehan you have been avoiding us for a week, don’t you think it’s time to face the situation? To face Courfeyrac?"  Musichetta says directly, crossing her arms over her chest. She is a girl with a mission and she will not waste time.

“I am not ready to talk with Courfeyrac!” Jehan says honestly. “I don’t know what to say! What can I tell to him, Musichetta? That I am sorry I broke his heart?”

“Anything will be better than nothing!” Musichetta replies exasperated. “He knows you are not coming for him, so he offered to leave to make you come back.”

Stupid, silly, adorable Courfeyrac who cares so much about his friends that he'd do anything for them. But Jehan cannot let him do this, not for him. "He doesn't realize it, does he?" Jehan smiles bitterly. "How we all need his good humor around? How he's the one keeping us unite, a bridge between all our differences?"

"Why don't you tell him?" Musichetta suggest and gosh, it's worse than dealing with children. "He'd appreciate."

Jehan sits down on the couch carefully. “It will only make things worse, ‘Chetta.” He says softly. “Every word I said to him hurt him, and I am scared I will only hurt him more and it’s the last thing I want to do.”

Musichetta sighs and put a hand on her hip. “He let you hurt him, okay? He could have told you about his feelings when you told us you had a boyfriend, but no, he kept everything to himself! You didn’t know about his feelings, Jehan, don’t blame you because you acted the way you did.”

 _Oh but that's the point_ , and Jehan takes a deep breath. "I think I knew it." he admits without looking at the other.

"You knew?" Musichetta stops and gives Jehan a perplexed look. So she was right ?

“Not really, but I've noticed, the first night at Bahorel's, when I introduced Montparnasse to the group.” Jehan's voice is so soft that he has to remind himself to talk out loud. "There was something wrong with Courfeyrac, I sensed it, but I decided to ignore it because..." he chuckles and shakes his head. "Because it was easier than dealing with it. I didn't pay attention and I buried my worries in my subconscious and now I only did harm."

And all the times he tried to cheer Courfeyrac up he hurt him more, all the time he believed he was the solution he has been the problem.

So she was half-right. "Love is blind and blinding, Jehan." Musichetta says sweetly sitting next to Jehan.

“You know…” Jehan starts thoughtfully. “I am regretting that night, the decision to introduce Montparnasse to you all. That night everything changed, for everyone, and I am not talking about Courfeyrac, or you all, I am talking about Montparnasse and me.” He sighs. “When we were alone it was easier for us.”

 _Yeah, because you didn’t have to worry about him punching your friends in the face_. Musichetta gently wraps her arms around Jehan. “The problem is that we are all chained, when something happens to one of us, it has repercussions on everyone, it’s natural. One thing changes and suddenly a lot of things change too in reaction. “

“I want to go back at when all I had to worry about was getting out of the Musain in time to meet with Montparnasse without becoming suspicious.” Jehan leans into the hug feeling happy to have some friendly support.

“One day you are going to tell me how did you manage to keep a relationship secret for six months, especially since I know you have been working as always and he never came to the shop. Do you have a time turner like Hermione?” Musichetta asks half-seriously.

A laugh escapes from Jehan. “No, I don’t. Sometimes I really have no idea either.” He hugs back Musichetta and let go a shakily breath. “Things with ‘Parnasse aren’t exactly okay, I don’t know if I can deal with Courfeyrac and Montparnasse at the same time.”

“You will have to.” Musichetta says gently. “You mean the world to Courfeyrac, you are his best friend and you two can’t go on ignoring each other because it’s easier. Talk to him, really talk to him, Jehan. You should open your hearts to each other and deal with this like adults.”

Jehan nods, not sure it could work. Not sure he wants to see the scars he made on Courfeyrac’s heart. He’s so sorry that he doesn’t know how to manifest it.

"Come back to the meetings, okay? You don't have to talk directly with Courfeyrac until you feel comfortable around him, but come back.” Musichetta goes on, her arms still around Jehan. She hates to see Jehan sad or unsure, probably because he still looks like a child . “Then when you are ready, you can talk. Plus it’s almost Christmas, I swear to God, Jehan Prouvaire,if you don’t talk with Courfeyrac before the party at my house you are not invited.”

“Okay, I would never miss the party.” Jehan says quickly. It’s not a bad idea, especially because he knows he should talk with Eponine and Grantaire too. After all he’s dating the boy that hit her and gave the drugs to him. Another thing he’s sorry about. I'll be back next meeting, okay?"

 “That’s my boy.” Musichetta throws her arm around Jehan and hugs him tightly. “I promise, you two will be fine, you are stronger than jealousy and guilt.”

* * *

 

Jehan shows up at the next meeting with a shy smile on his face, ready to some comment about his time away, but he's greeted with the usual smiles from his friends, and an exquisite hot chocolate made by Eponine.

Which would be awesome if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s dating her abusive ex. He clearly doesn’t deserve that chocolate.

He tells her so, taking her away from the group, and all she says is. “He did it, not you. There is nothing that I blame you for, Jehan.”

Jehan doesn’t believe it, because he’s the one who brought him back in her life. “I am sorry you had to meet him again because of me.”

“Jehan I know how he is, all charming and perfect, he’s dreamy when he wants.” Eponine says. “I just hope you will never have to wake up from that dream like I did.” she is really worried for him. What happened to her is ancient history, it still hurts, and even if she believes dating Montparnasse is a bad idea, it’s only Jehan’s choice. “If he does anything…tell me, okay? I will be more than happy to kick his ass.”

“Thank you.” The boy says and it’s a thank you for everything. “The chocolate is really really good, by the way.”  
  
“I am glad you like it.” Eponine smiles and pat Jehan on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Worry about yourself.” She recommend going back to work.

Jehan promises he will be carefull and goes back to the table with the others, and spends the whole time asking questions to Feuilly and Bahorel and their just blossomed relationship.

Courfeyrac doesn't look at him for the whole time.

 

* * *

 

It takes Jehan three meetings and a whole week to be ready to talk with Courfeyrac, and even then ,when it's dark outside, and so late that only Grantaire and Eponine are left working, he's not sure he's ready.

But he needs to, and that's enough.

He approaches Courfeyrac when everyone is out and he's waiting for Marius to collect his things and go back to their flat, so he believes he will not drag too much attention.

 "Courfeyrac, can we talk?" he asks unable to look at the other.

The world stops turning and instead he crashes over Courfeyrac's shoulder as he nods, while his whole being is screaming him to take Marius' arm and go away. "Sure."

Marius looks at the two boys and pats Courfeyrac on the shoulder. "See you at home." it's all he says, but his eyes are trying to tell his flatmate to be strong.

Jehan gives Marius a little smiles as he moves outside, and he pretend to ignore Grantaire and Eponine behind the counter, who are trying their best to keep busy and not listen.

"So..." Courfeyrac start. "What do you want to talk about?" he tries to sound casual, but he fails miserably.

"You know." Jehan is still not looking at Courfeyrac.

"I guess I know." Courfeyrac nods but he's not able to say anything.

"I..." Jehan shakes his head to his own stupidity. What he was thinking? Talking without a plan?

“I am sorry I punched your boyfriend.” Courfeyrac says, even if it’s not completely true. He’s sorry that that mistake lead to the unveiling of his feelings.

“I am sorry he punched you back.” Jehan replies honestly. “It’s wasn’t very nice, considering why he did it.”

Oh god, so here they are. “Jehan what he told you…” Courfeyrac take a deep breath. “It’s true, and you weren’t supposed to find out that way. Actually, you weren’t supposed to find out at all.” Someone should play Careless Whisper in the background. _To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind_. Words has never been more true.

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

“Why not?” Jehan asks gently, he can barely look at the other, because he looks like beaten puppy.

“Because you have a boyfriend, Jehan.” Courfeyrac fights to keep is voice clean of every strong emotion. “And knowing about my feelings only hurt you.”

“Hurt _me_?” Jehan blinks surprised. “Courfeyrac…” he whispers the name with reverence. “ _You_ are the one who is hurt, not me.” He takes his hands in his. “And I am sorry. I have never been so sorry about something in my life. It’ my fault and I am sorry.”

"It’s not your fault." Courfeyrac says, his hands inert in Jehan’s, too afraid to do anything. “And you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You are sad because of me, I have been hurting you in the past months.” Jehan points out, recalling his mind all the lies Courfeyrac told him, understanding them too well. “I am sorry you are suffering, I am sorry our friendship is being affected by my love life, I am sorry I tried to help you only making things worse."  He lists, his voice calm and yet sad.

“Jehan.” ." Courfeyrac's lips hurts as he tries to smile, a vain effort since the rest of his face doesn't show any kind of affection that could match with a smile. "You did the best you could do, i was the one not saying the truth, how you were supposed to help me? Please, don't feel sorry, I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"I wish I could make you feel happy again." Jehan whispers more to himself than to the other. “I’d give anything to see you smile like you used to. It’s horrible to know I am the reason why you are not as happy as before.”

“You were the reason why I was that happy before.” Courfeyrac points out. “Montparnasse is the reason why I am not, don’t confuse the two things. I am not blaming you for loving someone else.” It’s half true, after all. “I am blaming myself for being an idiot and I am blaming him for being so damn charming.”

It’s like the world is balancing on their hands, as if in the moment they let go, everything will crash and the existence will cease. So they don’t let go, but they don’t dare to move closer, they don’t dare to move at all.

Courfeyrac hands are sweating and Jehan is holding them even more tightly.

“I just want my best friend back.” Jehan says. "Do you think he'll be back?"

"At the moment..." Courfeyrac starts thoughtfully. "At the moment no, Jehan. Sorry, I won't lie anymore, it hurts, everytime I see you with him and...I still love you too much to ignore it."

Jehan steps back almost scared, letting go Courfeyrac’s hands and the world crashes. "Don't say that. Please _don't_."

"Why not? You know it anyway, it will not change anything, so at least I can say it." Courfeyrac let out a bitter laugh that quickly dies. He never felt so serious in his whole life. "Jehan Prouvaire, I love you."

Jehan shuts his eyes closed, as if that could help him not hearing those words he feared, despite knowing them. Hearing them coming from Courfeyrac's mouth is a whole different story, it's a simple confession of love that goes straight to his heart. Probably he shouldn't think it, but when Montparnasse says it, it's never this...warm. Warm as the hand on his cheek that dries away the tears he didn't realize are wetting his face.

"I love you so much, it's ridiculous, and I've loved you since day one, falling in love with you was the easiest thing in the world." Courfeyrac goes on, his voice soft. If this is only chance, he better use it. He cups Jehan's face with both his hands, his thumbs caressing the soft skin."You are the best thing that happened to my life."

"Courf..." Jehan starts, but freezes immediately when they lips brush together.

Courfeyrac step back quickly as soon as he realizes what's happening , and he moves so quickly that he hits a table with his hip. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. This shouldn't....isn't...fuck...sorry." he says frantically, his arms raised in surrender.

"It's okay..." Jehan reassures gently. They lips barely touched, he wouldn't call that a kiss. He won't call it a kiss, because calling it a kiss would make things only worse.

Grantaire and Eponine are covering each other's mouths with their hands to prevent the other to scream or say anything that would drag attention to them, and they know that they just witness something that they will have to keep secret until they die.

And since they don't plan to die soon and they are also very bad at keeping secret, they decide to just hide somewhere, before they witness anything else.

 "See, this is why I am not allowed to express my feelings, I get carried away." Courfeyrac tries to joke, even if he's aware that no kind of joke will ease things. He supports himself with the table, a hand well places on the surface, sure that his legs could stop working any minute if his mind don’t stop thinking about the fact that he tasted Jehan’s lips.

"No. Promise me you always be honest with me." Jehan replies quickly.

"Only if you are honest with me." Courfeyrac says. "After all I've told you about how i feel for you. What about your feelings? I mean, I know what they are, but I need you to tell me."

“No." Jehan protests, understanding perfectly what the other wants to hear "I will not....say that. It wouldn't be true."

 "I need to heart that, Jehan, there is a big difference in guessing and hearing it." Courfeyrac explains. "Please."

"I..." Jehan bites his bottom lip. He would give anything not to say it, especially because he does love Courfeyrac, just not in a romantic way -he loves everyone in a not romantic way-, yet a part of him understand the demand and make him feel obligated to comply. "I...don't love you, Courfeyrac."

_There is no comfort in the truth, pain is all you find._

Even if he knew -and _he knew_ , all hope lost months ago-, it still hurts, but Courfeyrac does his best to smile a little. "Thank you. I mean, it was obvious that I am not enough, but...yeah things are clear now."

"Who said you are not enough?" Jehan frowns worried. "I never said that, Courf."

"No, you didn't." Courfeyrac agrees. "You told me that I was the funniest guy you ever met, that I am always there for my friends, that I have a great sensibility, I'm always happy -which I must said is quiet untrue lately- and that I am good looking." he recall from memories, the words carved in his brain.

"You remember my exact words...?" Jehan asks and hi eyes darts to Courfeyrac' wrists where his bracelet is still there; he can still see the little star hanging out hi long sleeve.

"I pay attention when you speak." Courfeyrac admits shyly. He always feels like Jehan's words hold the key to unlocks the world. And Jehan has a beautiful, young, calming, melodic voice that he loves to hear. "Anyway, you said such nice things and yet you date Montparnasse, which means I am not enough for you."

"No, it doesn't mean that!" Jehan takes Courfeyrac's hand and squeezes it. "Love is not absolute, you can't compare yourself with other people because you are you, unique and special and perfect in your own way. Love is complex and complicated, it's not a challenge between two or more possible mates! Just because I didn't choose you, it doesn't mean you are not enough for me or for anybody else. it only means that...my heart needs someone else."

"But what does he have that makes you love him?" the desperation in Courfeyrac's voice is new even to him, but he doesn't care at the moment. "I tried to understand, to find some reasons, but I can't see it. Please Jehan tell me why you love him so much that you keep forgiving him no matter what he does? Why is he so special?"

Jehan slowly tilts his head, a thoughtful expression making him look older (which is actually his real age, it's just that Jehan normally looks younger).

"Making a list is complicated: it's about the little things, the little attentions; but mostly it's the fact that he's the only person I know that let love dictate his life as much as I do. When I am with him, I feel loved, I have no doubts, even if he doesn't like to express his feelings. It's all in his eyes: I look at him and I know he doesn't need anyone else, I know that we have found what we were both searching for." he can't stop the smile, even if probably it's impolite in the moment. "Even when we fight or argue I know he's not going to leave and I know I am not going to give up, we just can't break what's between us."

 Courfeyrac listens carefully, and he looks at Jehan, really looks, and notices for the first time how happy he looks when he talks or thinks of Montparnasse, the way his voice rings like church bells with emotion, and his cheeks blushes a little. He really has no chance about this, everyday life seems to remind him with cruelty. "Do you think you would you have loved me, if it hadn’t been for him? and I actually told you about my feelings, of course?"

"Don't ask me this!" Jehan exclaims outraged, panic in his eyes. "I don't know, how can I know? Don't torment yourself with what if scenarios, Courf, it's not worth it."

"I am sorry, just curious." Courfeyrac mumbles regretting the question. Jehan is right, it's not worth it, life is what it is, Jehan loves Montparnasse and he's alone, thinking about how things might have been would only hurt him more.

"You are still my best friend, Courfeyrac and you'll always be. And I need you just as I need Montparnasse, you are important too, never forget."

They stare at each other for a long moment, none able to find something to say anything else. It's not a comfortable silence, Jehan keeps playing with the edge of his sleeves, and Courfeyrac waits and waits and waits for something to happen, even if at this point he should know it’s not a good thing.

"Tell me we'll be good, Courf." Jehan requests, his voice barely audible. "Please."

"We will, I promise." Courfeyrac says solemnly."Now we should go, before they kick us out."

Jehan nods and reluctantly pulls away from the hug. "Will you be okay?"

“Don’t worry about me.” Courfeyrac says with a small smile. “Do me a favor: love Montparnasse as much as you can, love him so much that one day I will look at you and understand that there was a real reason why my heart broke.”

Jehan nods and despite his need to hug the other, to comfort him, he collects his things and moves to the door. For a moment he turns back, a hand already on the handle.

“Courf, I really meant it.” He says. “Love don’t come easily, you have to be patient, but one day someone will love you as you deserve.”

Courfeyrac doesn’t say anything, he let Jehan go out and sighs loudly. What’s the point in loving if it hurts so much?

"You can come out of your hiding spot!" he shouts. "We are done, you can close.”

 Grantaire and Eponine slowly emerges from a storage room looking around.

"Courf..."

"Please don't, okay?" Courfeyrac asks the two. "It was pathetic, I was pathetic and I'd rather not recall it."

"I think you handled the situation pretty well, actually." Eponine smiles gently joining the boy. She ruffles his hair with energy. "It was about time you stop bottling your feelings inside."

"I agree." Grantaire joins in, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe now you will have no need to punch people in the face because you can't cope with your own feelings."

Eponine looks back at her flatmate frowning. "R."

"He's right." Courfeyrac shrugs. "Now, if you allow me, I'll go home."

The bell above the main door of the Musain rings interrupting the dialogue and Grantaire says automatically. "We're closi...oh." he stops recognizing Enjolras and Combeferre.

The two boys just arrived looks at the trio valuating the situation: Eponine is still close to Courfeyrac, who looks like someone who just survived a disaster, and Grantaire just shakes his head when Enjolras looks at him.

"Didn’t go well?" Combeferre asks with caution, taking the place by Courfeyrac's side.

"It couldn't go well, 'Ferre." Courfeyrac points out and he sighs in relief when Combeferre's hand squeezes his shoulder with sympathy.

"Come on." Enjolras stops in front of Courfeyrac. "We'll offer you pizza, beer, chips and a marathon of Doctor Who."

Courfeyrac frown thinking about the offer. He knows Marius is waiting for him, for once eager to help him, but honestly the plan sounds good. "Ten?"

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but nods. "Fine."

Courfeyrac smiles. "I'll accept the offer than."

"Wonderful." Combeferre exclaims patting Courfeyrac's shoulder. "Shall we go? The Musain should be closed at the moment."

Eponine bats her eyelashes very quickly and force a smile. They have been opened for almost half an hour after the closing hour and nobody pays her for the extra time, so yes, it takes her a great strength not to kick her friends out.

Courfeyrac nods collecting his things and taking his coat.

"I'll join you in a minute." Enjolras says to the other two as they move to the door. "Just saying goodbye to Grantaire."

"Oh God, it will take him at least fifteen minutes." Courfeyrac rolls his eyes joking.

"Courfeyrac." Combeferre gives him a chastising look. "We'll be outside." he adds to Enjolras.

Grantaire smirks and arches his eyebrow. "So, taking time to proper say goodbye now?"

"I can always leave, if you prefer." Enjolras threat with a blank tone that could actually work if he wasn't already resting his hands on Grantaire's hips and leaning for a kiss.

Grantaire closes his eyes and accept the kiss with a humming sound, his hands move quickly to Enjolras' face, preventing the blond to pull away before Grantaire says so.

"Guys." Eponine calls. "It's fucking late, I wanna go home, can you please have sex here another day?" she asks ironically. None of them has a broken heart, so to the hell with being polite.

Grantaire smirks pressing his lips on Enjolras' once again. "You know 'Ponine, you are making me want to keep going on for hour just to piss you off." he comments, smirking even more at Enjolras' discreet smile.

"Yeah, piss me off and you'll regret it, R." Eponine gesture for them to move apart. "Come on, Enjolras tonight is friendship duty, go, we need to clean up and close."

"I am sorry, Eponine." Enjolras says honesty moving away from Grantaire just a little bit. "Call you later?" he asks to his boyfriend.

"Yeah." Grantaire nods. " But promise me you will not start a long, complicated debate about Martha Jones and her importance in Doctor Who when Courfeyrac will cry during Doomsday because Rose and the Doctor -we know he will asks you to see it."

Enjolras rolls his eyes. "But Martha is underrated Grantaire, someone has to defend her: she is a strong, intelligent, very well educated woman, not to mention she's the only dark ski..."

Grantaire kisses Enjolras roughly to stop his rant. "Don't do this every time, I love you when you are all flamed up in a discussion, but it's a tv show."

"It's more than that tv shows are the representation of society...."

Grantaire kisses Enjolras once again. "One more word and I'll let Eponine shut you up, and trust me she will not kiss you."

 Eponine nodded "Yep, I have really no desire in kissing you, Enjolras."

"Understood." Enjolras nods and sighs. "Goodnight to both of you." he finally says, kissing Grantaire one last time before leaving.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you to the tumblr user [theladyinapanicroom](http://theladyinapanicroom.tumblr.com/) because she's amazing and she read the chapter in preview because I wasn't sure it worked.
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always find me at [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/) and that my askbox is open, so feel free to say hi or whatever you like.
> 
> PS: Not sorry for the careless whisper mention.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Combeferre watch Doctor Who, Jehan and Montparnasse have a bubble bath, Courfeyrac and Combeferre sleep together (which lead to a talk with Enjolras), and Marius is confused why Courfeyrac is so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( If someone opened the chapter before the edit I am sorry, I have no idea what happened. )
> 
> At this point you should know that english is not my first language and I don't have a beta. All errors and mistakes are mine and I am sorry for them.
> 
> This chapter takes place immediately after chapter 11

As soon as they arrive at the flat, Courfeyrac let himself fall on the couch, remembering too late how uncomfortable the thing is, but at the moment he couldn't care less. He hides his face in the pillows, and he knows by instinct that the hand ruffling his hair is Combeferre’s and it takes him all his will to not turn to him and ask him to stop it immediately because all the little attentions are spoiling him and he's finding himself wanting them, _needing_ them.

He's only human, and a pretty weak one about human contact, he's not sure how long he can ignore this or how long his self control will stop him from doing something stupid.

"Do you want something as we wait for the pizza?" Combeferre asks gently.

"Do you have a device that erase the memories of the past months?" Courfeyrac asks back bitterly.

"Working on it, but you will have to wait, I fear." Combeferre replies not taking personally the other’s tone.

"Season two, three, four, or specials?" Enjolras asks trying to change topic, Courfeyrac doesn't need to sulk anymore in his feelings.

"Don't give me the Time Lord Victorious." Courfeyrac begs. "Give me Donna. No wait, no. Donna is bad, Donna forgets and breaks my heart. Give me Rose, but the first episodes, when they were happy."

"Fine." Enjolras says taking the DVD of season two. "But get up from the couch, we'll need space too."

"No. Mine." Courfeyrac pouts not moving a muscle.

"Courfeyrac." Enjolras says. "Move."

Courfeyrac obeys with a groan of protestation. "Aren't you supposed to help me?"

"I am." Enjolras replies simply. "If you want someone to cuddle with you asks Combeferre, I'm going to shake you up until you react."

Courfeyrac smiles a little knowing too well that Enjolras is really caring for him, and he's grateful. He looks at Combeferre. "So... wanna cuddle?"

Combeferre stares at Courfeyrac and it takes him three seconds to understand that the other is joking  (actually not completely, but he can’t know). "Will you move if I say yes?" he hopes he sounds casual enough.

Quickly, Courfeyrac sit up and leave space for the others two, patting the couch next to him. "Now I want my cuddle."

Enjolras gives Combeferre a look which is both worried and sorry; damn Courfeyrac and the ease with he offers and demands such things.

"Maybe later." Combeferre says quickly. "I have to take the food." he adds to justify his answers. It's better than saying that he's scared by the eventuality. He leaves the two alone moving in the kitchen, more than happy to do so.

"Before you ask, no I will not cuddle with you." Enjolras says quickly, his eyes following Combeferre until he disappear in the other room.

"Oh dear lord, I have to start working on my mind filter." Courfeyrac murmurs to himself. He really needs to, and quickly.

"What did Jehan say, anyway?" Enjolras asks sitting in the spot that was designated for Combeferre.

"I don't want to recall it, thank you. Ask Grantaire tomorrow, he knows." Courfeyrac answers harshly.

"I will not ask him, and you know he won't tell me anyway, he knows it's none of his business." Enjolras explains calmly. "If you don't want to talk about it, fine, but you should."

"Well, he said he was sorry and I am still trying to understand why. I am the one who put him in this situation, I am the one who punched his boyfriend, I am the one who..." _kissed him_. Courfeyrac closes his eyes and presses the palm of his hands over them. "Fuck."

Enjolras frown, not following his fiend's thoughts. "Who _what_?"

"Nothing." Courfeyrac says quickly. "I am more bothered by the fact that I asked him what he loved about Montparnasse and he basically melted talking about him." he stops and finally looks back at the blond. "Do you think I am a sadistic?"

"I don’t know." Enjolras replies politely. "Why are you asking?"

"I keep asking him about Montparnasse, maybe subtly I like this feeling of being stabbed in the heart again and again, otherwise I have no explanation why I am doing this."

"You just want to be sure you can't win a competition." Combeferre says coming back from the kitchen with two beers. "Otherwise, if there is even one little hope, you know you will try to take Jehan away from Montparnasse. And you don't want to do that, because Jehan would get hurt."

Courfeyrac blinks looking at Combeferre as he offers him a bottle. "That was very, very wise. And reassuring."

Combeferre smiles and goes back in the kitchen, this time is Courfeyrac who follows him with his eyes, feeling his self-control waving him bye bye. This is bad, very bad.

"Christmas special yes or no? Enjolras asks pretending that nothing is happening in the room.

"Of course yes." Courfeyrac replies after few seconds remembering that Enjolras is there too.

They settle down on the couch, beers, pizza and doctor who on the tv: the best combination to avoid thinking too much.

* * *

 

"Enjolras can you stop sexting Grantaire for five minutes?" Courfeyrac asks rolling his eyes. "Doctor Who is on."

"We are not sexting." Enjolras exclaims sending the text. "He is documenting his slowly downhill in stupor."

"He's getting drunk?" Combeferre frowns.

"His replies are slow and his grammar it's getting worse: yes, he's getting drunk." Enjolras sighs. They really have to talk about this, even if he is not so willing to fight: he really liked have a few month of peace with Grantaire.

"Well, it's Grantaire, nothing new." Courfeyrac shrugs, his attention at the screen, until he feels Combeferre's elbow hitting his ribs. " _Ouch_! what?" he turns his head to the pair, just to see Enjolras looking at him with his worst, calm and calculated cold stare.

"Yes, it's Grantaire. Doesn't mean I like to stay here as he get drunk for apparently no reason." Enjolras states standing up, his voice mostly blank, but there is a soft vibration in it that show exactly how he's controlling himself. "Or that I like the fact that he's getting drunk at all." he adds. "It's a problem, don't minimize it, Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac sighs. "I am sorry." he says first. "I didn't mean I don't care."

Enjolras shakes his head, deciding there is no reason to keep up the topic. "Since I'm up, do you want anything else?"

"No, I think I'll go home." Courfeyrac replies checking his watch. "Don't want to abuse your patience or DVD player."

“We don't mind, you know it. We can keep watching and you can sleep here." Combeferre points out ignoring the look coming from Enjolras.

"Thank you, but no. I'd rather sleep on the cold hard ground than on this couch." Courfeyrac replies quickly. One night was definitely enough.

"And how are you going back home? It's too late for public transport and it's a hell of a walk from here to your flat." Enjolras points out worried.

Courfeyrac curses under his breath: he went to the Musain with the tub because the meeting wasn't going to last too long and he never planned to stay out for the night. He should start using his own damn car if he wants to avoid situation like this.

"I'll give you a lift, come on." Combeferre offers with a half smile.

"Always my savior." Courfeyrac comments with a grin.

 At least, Enjolras doesn't give some advice or warning to Combeferre when they leave, even if for a moment he was really going to do so.

* * *

 

Courfeyrac opens slowly the front door of his flat, trying to make as less noise as possible, when he finally the door opens, he turns his head to Combeferre and grins proudly, like if he did more than unlock his own door.

Few seconds later (more like twenty) Courfeyrac finally finds the switch and turns it on, enlightening the messy living room.

"Uhm, well, don't mind the mess, please...?" he gives another look to the other.

"Your house, not mine, who am I to judge?" Combeferre replies still confused why the other asked him to come with him instead of just driving away.

He wishes Enjolras said to him the words that were clearly on the tip of his tongue when they were closing the door.

Courfeyrac seems to clearly read the confusion over Combeferre's face and says. "I promise I'll soon send you back home, but first... " he frowns. "Well, 'Ferre, I wanted to tell you that I appreciate what have you done for me lately. I know you would have done it for anyone, but for five minutes let me think that you did this just for me, let me be selfish because I honestly need it."

"Go on then, I'm not going to stop your thoughts." Combeferre says because he knows he did it just for Courfeyrac, he just doesn’t want to say it out loud.

"Good." Courferyac smiles. "But really, 'Ferre, I have no idea what stupid things I would have done without your supervision and help, you kept my melodramatic side under control. I will never thank you enough."

"You don't have to, really." Combeferre replies gently.

"No, let me talk." Courfeyrac orders with decision, he have to say this because not saying things is the reason why he's in this situation. "You have been there for me every single time I asked you, every time that I needed you never let me down and only God knows for how long I'm going to need you. I know, _I know_ : I don't have any right to monopolize your time or to ask you this, but...it would be amazing if you could stick with me for a little bit longer." he finishes quickly slightly embarrassed.

Combeferre stays silent for a moment, considering the needy tone in Courfeyrac's voice and how he couldn't be able to ignore it anyway. "If you need me, I am here for you." he says honestly. "I’ll always be here."

Courfeyrac decides that he needs Combeferre ( yes, it's selfish, he knows that, but he can't find anywhere inside of him the strength to take a step back, not now. That’s a problem for later. )

"Thank you" he says and he does the only thing that, he knows from his experience, shows caring and affection: he kisses Combeferre on the lips.

It's Courfeyrac, so it shouldn't surprised Combeferre, but for a moment he doesn't know what to do -or what to think and it's the scariest thing he ever experienced, because his mind is always working, thinking, evaluating and now it's completely blank leaving him alone and helpless-, until it's clear that Courfeyrac is pulling away, and it's also very clear to him that he doesn't want the kiss to end.

To the hell with being cautious, with Enjolras' warnings, with the over-thinking, he will probably regret it at some point, but he can live with some regret. He kisses Courfeyrac back and the fact that Courfeyrac for a second is the one totally lost is a personal victory that he will treasure for a very long time.

"Okay." Courfeyrac says pulling away when he needs air, he looks at the other confused. "Was kissing me back your way to say _you are welcome_?"

"Something like that, yes." Combeferre replies with a shy smile that it's more like Jehan than him, but it looks appropriate.

"Mh, that's good." Courfeyrac comments amused, his usual flirtatious smile curving his lips. "I should have said thank you earlier, then."

"Maybe you should have kissed me earlier." Combeferre regrets the words as soon as they left his mouth: the last thing he wants his to sound like someone who has waited for this moment.

"I am sorry, but I have all the intentions to make amend." Courfeyrac says , a hand over his heart to show how serious he is.

"And how?" that's a stupid question, and Combeferre really hopes that his mind will start working again soon or he will get into trouble.

Courfeyrac grins, a mischievous light in his eyes, and takes Combeferre's face in his hands and kisses him once again.

And then Courfeyrac is laughing, risking to wake up Marius, pointing at Combeferre's face.

"What?" Combeferre asks confused -and a little bit hurt-

"Your glasses!" Courfeyrac explains. "They get into the way and..." he gesture to the glasses that hangs in the wrong angle on the other's face. "Let's take them off, mh?" it's only a formality because he's already taking Combeferre's glasses off.

"Courf I need them to see..." Combeferre protest trying to get his glasses back.

“Shut up, you don't need glasses to kiss me." Courfeyrac points out.

"Maybe not, but I need them to drive back home." Combeferre sighs.

"And who says you are going back home tonight?" Courfeyrac asks winking, even if his voice is as pure as the voice of an angel.

“You promised.”  
“Well, in the real world nobody keep a promise, I am sorry.”

"Courfeyrac." Combeferre warns, this is not a good idea.

"Combeferre." Courfeyrac mocks the other's voice. "Don't tell me you really don't want to spend the night here, that the idea doesn't appeal you."

Since Courfeyrac is right, Combeferre decides upon a change of topic. "What about Marius? He's sleeping in the room next t yours."

"Once asleep Marius sleeps for eight hours, no way to wake him up." Courfeyrac smirks and throw his arms around Combeferre's neck. "Why do you worry anyway? Are you implying you are quite the screamer in bed?"

"What? No." Combeferre replies quickly, his hands settling on Courfeyrac's waist. "It's just that..."

"Come on." Courfeyrac insists biting Combeferre's bottom lip. "We both need it, don't deny it. Just give in. Stay."

Yes, he needs it. Most importantly: he wants it.  "Fine" Combeferre says finally, keeping for himself the limitations he would like to apply to the situation.

* * *

 

Montparnasse scrolls down to the twenty-fourth text from Guelemer, barely reading the words (he can bet it's something on the line of a physical threat because Babet is still in prison and he's free like a butterfly.), contemplating to simply shut down the phone -but it's late and Jehan didn't send him a ext telling him that he's home after the meeting at the Musain.

Not that he's worried or checking Jehan's schedule (maybe a little bit, but it's not asking for it, it's Jehan who gives him the informations, and it's frustrating because Montparnasse thinks that Jehan is reassuring him like he would do with a child, only to keep quiet his jealousy.) but since he went back to the Musain, he's strange.

A knock on the door -not the secret knock of the Patron Minette- force Montparnasse to ignore the 25th text from Guelemer.

Nobody is calling out pretending to be the police, so must be a common guest, who could be more dangerous than the police.

"'Parnasse! Open, I know you are home." a voice calls from behind the door

With a sigh of relief well hidden, Montparnasse opens the door to find a soaked to the bones Jehan waiting there.

"You look horrible." Montparnasse comments dragging the other in and checking that nobody is outside.

Jehan is aware of his look: his clothes are glued to his body due to the rain, his hair are a mess, and he cried so he must have red eyes too.

 "Are you okay?" Montparnasse asks when he's greeted by nothing but silence.

Jehan closes his fist on the edge f Montparnasse's shirt and pulls him closer "I talked with Courf."

Montparnasse takes a moment to swallow down his jealousy and the bitter tone he's dying to use, then his right hand rest over Jehan's, and the right touches Jehan's face gently. "Didn't like the conversation, I guess?"

"It was horrible." Jehan admits, his voice full of sadness, but he will not cry again.

"But necessary." Montparnasse reminds to the older pulling him to a hug.

"Still horrible for both." Jehan whisper, then he tries to fight against the hug. "No, I'll wet your clothes!"

"They'll dry and you need a hug." Montparnasse replies. it's a fucking big improvement for him, not caring for his clothes, maybe he's really changing.

Jehan sighs and rests his forehead in the space between Montparnasse's neck and shoulder. "I love you."

"Yes, I know." Montparnasse replies quietly.

"I had to tell him that I don't love him." Jehan confesses. "It broke my heart, and he looked so hurt and I hate myself for it."

Remembering not to be jealous is harder that Montparnasse thought. "Jehan don't hate yourself for this: we do not choose who we love and you surely never chose to hurt him." he whispers gently, his voice as calming a possible.

"But I did." Jehan protests. "And I can't fix it and I can't stop thinking about…" _how honest he sound when he said he loves me._ "Everything."

There is so much that Jehan is not saying and there is so much that Montparnasse has no desire to know, so it's really fine.

"Come on, I'll run a hot bath, one minute more in those clothes and you'll get ill and Joly will not allow you -and me- to spend Christmas at his house." Not that he would mind, clearly.

Jehan nods and pulls away, missing the warmth of Montparnasse's body immediately.  
They kiss briefly, then Montparnasse disappear in the bathroom and Jehan is left alone in the flat.

 In eight months of relationship, Jehan can count on two hands the times he has been in Montparnasse's house, and the place still look unfamiliar to him.

Montparnasse likes luxury, he has a very sophisticated taste for the furniture, but at the same time little imperfections, like the old and yellowish wallpaper, reflect his loss of real attention for things that aren't his face or his clothes.

Jehan can't help but asking himself is the sofa or the TV were bought with the money made with the drug dealing. Probably the answers is yes. And probably the rest was stolen.

_Things that happen when you date a criminal_ , Jehan thinks hopeless.

"Bath almost ready" Montparnasse announces, his dead pocking from the door.

Jehan looks at him for a moment, then he look at the TV. "Did you stole it?"

Montparnasse blinks surprised."Jehan, haven’t' you had enough complicated conversation for today?"

"Is that a yes?" Jehan asks curious.

Montparnasse simply nods and waits for some shouting or some fucking scary silence.

"I see." Jehan comments blankly. He should have known better.

But Montparnasse is right, he had enough conversation for the day, so he simply move to the bathroom.

The bathtub is full of bubbles and Jehan burst out in a genuine laugh.

"Yes, go on, mock me because I was sure you would love a bath full of bubbles." Montparnasse murmurs rolling his eyes.

"And you were right." Jehan reassures him with a gentle kiss.

The little, warm sensation of pride in Montparnasse's chest is worth the effort. "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes before the bath runs cold."

Jehan nods again, his hands quickly moving to take off his jumper, but he's stopped by Montparnasse. "What?"

Montparnasse doesn't reply, instead he smiles and takes off Jehan's jumper and toss it away in the laundry box.

"Parnasse..." Jehan says.

"Let me." Montparnasse says with that charming tone that makes Jehan wants to say yes to everything.

Jehan let Montparnasse undress him with expert fingers, looking everywhere but in front of him, even if he can feel Montparnasse's glance over him, over every inch of exposed skin.

"You can't look at me while I undress you?" Montparnasse says amused. "We have been together for eight months, I know how do you look like naked."

"I know." Jehan replies rolling his eyes, feeling his cheeks getting warmed. "It's just that..." he stops at the sound of his belt being unfastened.

"Well, you can't take a bath dressed." Montparnasse points out simply.

"I can finish." Jehan says quickly moving away and finishing undressing himself.

"That's not what you say when we are in bedroom."

"Yes, but we are in the bathroom, so..." Jehan shrugs and enters the bathtub carefully lowering himself in the warm water. His whole body seems to melt and he's only partially ashamed of the appreciation sigh that escapes from his lips. He turns his head to Montparnasse and frowns.

"Are you not joining me?"

"Thought you would never ask." Montparnasse replies, his fingers already working on his clothes. "You are not going to look away?" he asks noticing how Jehan's attention is all on him.

Jehan keeps staring at the younger from the tub. "No, I keep my eyes fixed on things I like."

"But can't take when someone looks at you for the same reason?" Naturally, Montparnasse slows down his actions, taking his time to undress just to preserve the pleased look on Jehan's face.

"Come on, I feel lonely in here." Jehan says ignoring the comment and reaching out his hand for the other.

Montparnasse takes the hand and use it to balance himself as he enters the tub: there is enough space for him to sit behind Jehan, who clearly planned this because as soon he's in the tub, he moves closer until his back rests against Montparnasse's chest.

"That's better."

"You think?" Montparnasse asks starting undoing Jehan's braid, which may be or not be one of his favorite hobbies.

"Absolutely." Jehan closes his eyes and focus on the little shivers coming from his scalp, on the warm water, and the silence of the room. It's perfect really. "Did i say that I love you?"

"Yes." Montparnasse nods and takes a deep breath because it would be rude dot ask his own boyfriend to stop telling him that.

"He asked me why I love you."

_None of his business_ , Montparnasse thinks. "What did you say?" he asks stopping his work on Jehan’s hair, instead he wraps his arms around him.

"Well, it's a shame I couldn't say that I love you for this bath, because it's wonderful." Jehan smiles taking some soap in his hand and blowing the bubbles away. "And I lied about that." he knows that Montparnasse is not going to ask anything, so he just closes his eyes and rests his head on his shoulder, his hands resting on the arms around his chest. "I couldn't tell him that I love you because you are the only person that doesn't see me like some fragile flower and is not scared to hurt me, you see me behind the façade, you see past every prejudice and assumption, and that makes me feel..." he frowns and look up at the other. "real."

"You are very real without me." Montparnasse points out. If someone is not real on his own, it's him, with his criminal life and his secret and his lack of real purpose. "And I hope you understand that I really never intended to hurt you, even if I admit it happens very often."

"I know." Jehan reassures caressing Montparnasse's cheek and leaving some soap on it. "I'm not saying that the perception that they have of me it's not real -yes, I care for my friends, I want them happy, I cry for the stupidest thing, I laugh every time I can- but..."

"You are so much more than that." Montparnasse finishes for him. "Because there is a side of you that likes to stare at the rain on Sunday afternoons and read sad poems, a part of you that wants to learn as much as despair as much you know about love." his fingers runs gently in Jehan's hair, a lazy gesture that matches the calming intonation of his voice" You want to know everything about the human heart, even the darkest secret, you want to explore everything, you want to see what people hide because it's where Truth lies, and after all: _beauty is truth, truth beauty_." he chuckles. "Probably that's why you are attracted to me, I'm a perfect subject for such research."

"You are not a research subject." Jehan protests shifting so that he can face Montparnasse, with bubbles sticking to his naked body and the point of his hair. "You are more like a negative picture of my positive, we fit each other's empty spaces."

"I am so glad you recognize you are the positive aspect in our relationship" Montparnasse admits taking Jehan's hand and entwining their fingers together, so tightly that it hurts. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Of course I want to."

"I think that _you will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit_." Montparnasse quote with a smirk, his eyes locked with Jehan's, searching for the effect of his words on the face of the poet.

"Are you quoting Wilde now?" Jehan asks keeping his emotion locked inside because he knows when the other tries to read him. Montparnasse is right: it's true that he doesn't have the courage to do the things that Montparnasse does, and is also true he's fascinated by them, by the danger, by the mystery and the darkness that fills Montparnasse's world.

And especially it's true that he would never do such things, because his is a mere curiosity, not the need that seems to drive Montparnasse, and it's fine, he can stay outside that world and live it by reflection thanks to Montparnasse. He wants to see as much as he can, even if it's not with his own eyes

"You started this." Montparnasse reminds letting go of Jehan's hand and rests his arms on the two side of the tub, completely relaxed. "Don't you find it fitting anymore?" he asks arching his eyebrows.

"I still do." Jehan agrees with a sigh, a hand lazily playing with the bubbles. "And you are right about everything, as always. That's why I love you."

"I am a lucky man." Montparnasse comments with a smile.

Jehan sighs, slightly rolling his eyes. "I love you." he says again, marking every word.

"It's the third time you have said it today." the younger points out frowning.

"I love you." Jehan insists, the words still strong with their meaning.

Montparnasse keeps his mouth shut this time and looks confused at his boyfriend: clearly something it's not right.

"Can we do it properly for once?" Jehan demands. "You always make some comments and you ruin the mood."

"Oh, I see." Montparnasse nods understanding.

"Good." Jehan sounds almost annoyed, but then a shy smile lights up his eyes "I love you."

"I love you too." Montparnasse says back, maybe with not the same enthusiasm, but with the same honesty.

Jehan looks like the most happy person on the planet as he moves closer to Montparnasse to kiss him fiercely.

* * *

 

It's dawn when Combeferre gets back home (starting really to regret not listening to Courfeyrac's plea to stay in bed with him a little longer) in desperate need for sleep and quiet.

Of course, that's not what life planned for him, because he spot immediately his flatmate laying on the sofa, definitely awake and looking at him.

“You didn't sleep?" he asks because Enjolras is wearing the same clothes, looks tired ( as much as him ) and his hair are a mess.

"No." Enjolras confirms, not that it's a big deal, he can go on days without sleeping, until he just fall asleep and he wakes up hours later somewhere comfortable where Combeferre or Grantaire put him. "Had a not pleasant exchange of texts wit Grantaire when you left, tried to call him, hang before I could says something only I would remember and regret, keep on texting, he fell asleep or passed out one hour ago"

"You argued over...text? That's a new one" Combeferre frowns. He takes off his coat and joins the other on the couch, lifting Enjolras' legs to make space for himself. "Why are you not in bed, if everything stopped one hour ago?"

"Couldn't sleep." the blond shrugs because he really has no other motivation. "Why it took you hours to come back?"

The change of topic doesn't appeal Combeferre too much, he would really like to sleep before talking about this. "Make an educated guess." it's his answer.

Enjolras' educated guess remains unspoken and from the glance they share, there is no need to say it out loud at all, none of them is surprised that this finally happened. Maybe Enjolras could say something about how they couldn't choice a worst moment to do it, but he's too tired to actually say it. "Was it good, at least?"

Combeferre let out a tiny laugh. "Yeah." there is no point in denying it, and no shame. "Now I know why half of Paris was more than happy to sleep with him."

"You are not going to think about that now, Combeferre, aren't you?" Enjolras asks almost worried. The last thing his best friend needs is to feeling like just one among a lot of people.

"I am thinking about a lot of things Enjolras." Combeferre takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "I know it's a little bit too late to do it, but better late than never. Mostly I am thinking you were right."

Enjolras stays silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "About what, exactly?"

"Everything." Combeferre replies shaking his head. "About this a very bad idea, and especially...about me having feelings for him."

Not that saying it out loud make it more real or more shocking, Enjolras knew it before him and he knew it too. "And about Courfeyrac not feeling the same way." Enjolras adds. Did he say it the first time or not? He can't remember, if he's honest.

Combeferre's fingers starts tapping on Enjolras' legs on his lap in a nervous rhythm that matches his nervous smile (no, it's not even a smile, it's some muscle moving without a real reason)

"What am I supposed to do, Enjolras? Ignore what happened? Ignore Courfeyrac?" he asks confused, he doesn't want to ignore what happened, or ignore Courfeyrac, not when it would be like stabbing him in the back. And ignoring his own feelings doesn't seems a very good idea.

"I think it's between you two this time." Enjolras answers, feeling sorry for not having a definitive solution. "I wish I could tell you let this thing be a one night stand and never think about it again, or build a relationship with him, but I can't because it's not my business. My advice is to do what will hurt you the less."

"But I have no idea about what will hurt me less." Combeferre admits.

"Is this is why you avoided the morning after talk and you are having it with me?" Enjolras asks serious.

"Yes, I guess. I am not ready to talk properly about this." Combeferre admits. "I need to sleep before."

"You should have stayed with him. The morning after it's always a moment of clarity: you wake up in the bed with someone else and you know by heart if you did the right thing or not."

"Is what happened with Grantaire?"

"More or less."

"Do you think I did a mistake ?" it's a rhetorical question, clearly, because Combeferre knows he did a mistake, a pleasant one, the most old mistake in the world, yet he doesn't feel that bad, he doesn't feel like he did something really wrong. His mind he's telling him that he has been an incautious idiot, but at the same time he knows that given the chance, he would do the same thing.

 Enjolras moves his legs from Combeferre's lap and stand up, stretching for a few seconds, his muscles protesting for the time spend on the couch. "I think you deserve someone who loves you because you are you, someone that would do anything to make your day better, someone that would choice you over anybody else, not someone who came to you because is heartbroken and needs affection." he says. "I have nothing against Courfeyrac, I understand his behavior, _I do_ , but I hate seeing you like this."

Combeferre smiles when Enjolras' hands rests on his shoulder, sympathetic. It's strange to see Enjolras taking care of him, it's strange not being the one giving advice, it's not his role, but he's glad that someone is there for him.

"I love you, Combeferre, not in the way I love Grantaire, but as a brother, as a vital part of me." Enjolras declares with his most serious tone. He leans forward and kisses Combeferre on the forehead. "I'm on your side, always. I'll accept whatever decision you will take and support it, as long as it makes you happy."

"Thank you." Combeferre says sincerely. "I really appreciate it, Enjolras."

"Let's go to bed, we both need some rest." Enjolras says taking Combeferre hand and helping him to stand up.

* * *

 

Courfeyrac wakes up, both literally and metaphorically.

And for once, he wakes up and he's happy, genuinely happy. He's not worried, and there is no dull ache in his chest, or some kind of melancholy.

Because really, what's in the point of spending his life feeling sad because a boy (a wonderful, perfect, charming, adorable boy) who doesn't love him back? It's not the first person that has ever felt this way, and he will not be the last, but life doesn't stop, life goes on.

And his value his not measured by somebody's else love. Maybe just a little bit, because, honestly speaking, he's feeling good because Combeferre spent the night with him.

It wasn't sleeping with him that changed his mind, it was knowing that somebody cared about him, that somebody loved him.

Okay, probably it's not fair because he doesn't -can't- feel the same way as Combeferre does (he knows, of course he knows, he saw in Combeferre's eyes the true reason why he stayed) and he does feel a little bit guilty about it, but when he said they both needed it, he was sincere.

He stretch still in bed, smiling content with himself and life, and grasp the sensation. He hasn't feel like this in months, and he doesn't even care that Combeferre is not in bed with him: a taste of his own medicine from time to time can't hurt him.

 It's karma settling the score for all the time he left beds in the middle of the night. _("Why don't you stay? It's late, and it's cold, and you shouldn't drive when you are tired." a gentle yet firm kiss on the lips. "I don't want to run into Marius tomorrow morning, or to explain anything to Enjolras." "You know that the no-boys-under-the-roof rules doesn't apply to my home?"_ )

Maybe if he doesn't get out of bed there is no chance that his mood will be ruined during the day, if he ignores the big bad world, he can pretend that everything is finally fine.

Well, he have to pretend that the world is smiling at him out of bed, since there are noises outside his room which means Marius is awake and if he sets fire to the kitchen, he wants to be dressed properly and not run away naked. Not that clothes would save him from the flames, of course.

He dresses up humming some happy song that he's not sure where it came from, and he keeps humming as he gets out of the room to move to the kitchen. He stops only when he wraps an arm around Marius' shoulders and kisses him on the cheek. "Good morning, Pontmercy."

"Someone looks happy." Marius comments frowning. This is strange, very very strange. The only reason why Courfeyrac could look so happy would be because Jehan told him that he loves him as well, but if something like that happened, he would have known. _Right?_

"Yes, Marius, I am." Courfeyrac declares with confidence.

"Sorry to bust your bubble, but...I expected you to...well, not be that happy?" Marius tries. "What did Jehan tell you?"

Courfeyrac stops, his hand around the milk bottle. Why all he can remember about the discussion is the kiss? He doesn't want to remember the damn kiss. "Well he loves Montparnasse, not something new." he says closing the fridge carefully.

"But are you two okay or...?" Marius asks hoping that at some point the other will start talking a little more.

"With a little bit more of time, yes." Courfeyrac manages a smile. "Stop looking so worried!"

"You just had a showdown with Jehan about your feelings, of course I am worried!" Marius protests moving his hand in the air. "I may be the worst friend in the world, but I am still your friend!"

"You are not the worse friend in the world, Marius." Courfeyrac says calmly, almost gently. "I am sorry if I let you believe that because I focused my attention on someone else." _someone else that was in my bed just few hours ago_.

Marius shakes his head. "I am sorry if I let you down when you needed me." he admits with a little bit of shame in his voice. Cosette almost shout at him trying to make him understand that Courfeyrac needed his help, needed him there, that he wasn't just complaining like a child. Courfeyrac doesn't have to know that he's sorry because his girlfriend verbally kicked his ass.  
  
"Okay, now that we are clear, can I cook you breakfast?" Courfeyrac asks.

"Still fearing I'll set fire to the kitchen?" Marius frowns offended.

"Said the man who hit a wall tripping on his own feet." Courfeyrac reminds to the other simply.

 It's not Marius' fault, it's just that he was born with the talent of being awkward.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courferre is finally a thing, it was about time, right? Right. However, despite all Combeferre's doubts, they will sleep together again, but you will not have a scene about it, I am sorry.  
> This is because next chapter is Christmas time and it's complicated enough without that. (Ah Christmas should sound merry, but it's not, sorry.)
> 
> A big thank you to Francesca (or Nessie or tumblt user theladyinapanicroom call her as you wish) who helped me decide when make Courf and Ferre sleep together.  
> So, Enjolras should talk to her.
> 
> The bubble bath of love was a poor attempt to explain why I love this ship so much, but probably is not as half as good as it should be.
> 
> I am sorry about the way I use Marius, because I know he's so much more than the awkward guy. I will give him some justice one day.
> 
> My tumblr is still drunkpyldes, and my askbox is always open!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Time!  
> But it's not that happy.  
> Or, in which Montparnasse doesn't go to the Christmas party, operation mouth shut and eyes open fails, Courfeyrac and Jehan are alone, and Montparnasse feels the magic of Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't have a beta, and I am still italian so... I really hope this is not too awful.

 

Jehan sits up on the bed and the movement forces Montparnasse to open one eye and come back to reality from the blissful aftermath of his orgasm.

"What are you doing?" he asks lazily noticing the other moving around the room lighten up only by the small lamp on Jehan’s bedside table.

"Searching for my underwear." Jehan replies. "Stop throwing them around the room." he adds turning to the other to give him a menacing look.

"Not my fault if they get in the way." Montparnasse shrugs, an arm bent under his head over the pillow.

Finally, Jehan finds his briefs and put them on quickly, moving outside the room.

"Where are you going?" he asks again confused.

"Nature calls."

"How romantic."

"Shut up."

Montparnasse giggles and takes a cigarette from the packet on the bedside table; finding his lighter is actually more complicated, but after a few seconds his hand closes around it. Contrary to popular belief, he can enjoy simply things, like some good sex, a comfy bed and a cigarette. In that order.

"Smoking after sex. Can you be more cliché?" Jehan asks playfully coming back in the room. He climbs back on the bed, but instead of lying on it, he sits on top of Montparnasse.

"What can I say, I wear a well tailored persona full of clichés and stereotypes." Montparnasse shrugs.

"Yes, you are the personification of the bad guy stereotype." Jehan agrees. He steals the cigarette from Montparnasse's lips and take a long drag from it. He almost missed the taste and the feeling. Almost. He still rather smells of flowers than ashes, but he must admit that the other has a good taste in cigarettes.

With his hand now free, Montparnasse can place it con Jehan's hip. "So if you do it it's not cliché?" He asks staring at the other. There he is: an almost naked Jehan, on top of him, slowly smoking, hair ruffled, and it takes Montparnasse all his self-control not to jump on him.

"No, it's still cliché, but I don't care." Jehan replies simply. He lower himself and breath out the smoke in Montparnasse's slightly opened mouth. "So, remember tomorrow you come with me, I need to buy the last presents."

_Oh Christmas, right._ "About that..." Montparnasse starts. "Yes, I am coming with you." he says when he can see Jehan ready to say something. "But we need to talk about the party." Jehan moves to put the cigarette in the ashtray ( the day Montparnasse bought it, Jehan knew things were getting serious, because it seemed to him like a way to say he was going to stay.) and finally moves from Montparnasse's body to lie down on his side of the bed. "What about the party?"

Montparnasse changes position, lying on his side, propped on an elbow. "I don't think it's a good idea coming with you."

"Why not?" Jehan mirrors Montparnasse's position, so that they can talk face to face.

Montparnasse arches an eyebrow. "Do you have to ask?"

No, Jehan doesn't have to ask because he didn't forget that his boyfriend and his best friend (who loves him and kissed him) had a fight, or that his boyfriend broke Grantaire's nose. "But it's Christmas!"he points out sounding like a child. "Our first Christmas as a couple and I wanted to spend it with you."

"I know, I know." Montparnasse sighs at the right moment. Of course he also doesn't like the idea to not spend Christmas with Jehan, but Christmas has never been important to him, so he' aware he's facing the situation with different emotions. "It's just that I am sure they don't want me around. Not that I can blame them."

"It's just Courf." Jehan replies. "The others have nothing against you."

It takes him a lot not to laugh. "And Musichetta, who threw me out of her house, which means Joly and Bossuet don’t like me either, Bahorel looks like the kind of guy that likes a fight and hates when someone touches his friends." Montparnasse lists slowly. "But honestly I am more concerned about Eponine and Enjolras."

"What about Enjolras?" Jehan frowns.  He can understand how delicate it’s the situation between Eponine and Montparnasse, but  last time they talked everything seemed fine between Enjolras and Montparnasse. "Oh, I see." he says then. Of course Enjolras is pissed off with Montparnasse after what he did to Grantaire.

"Then you understand why I shouldn't come." Montparnasse says. To be honest he's happy to have an excuse to avoid another party with the group. They are great, yes, but they simply belong to different worlds.

"But...Christmas." Jehan says again with a sad voice. "Christmas is the day you spend with people you love...I don't want to spend Christmas away from you." he admits hugging Montparnasse likes some kind of teddy bear.

"Think about what I said for a minute and tell me if I am wrong." Montparnasse wraps his free arm around Jehan, holding him close. "If I show up at the party I will ruin everyone's Christmas, mine and yours included."

Jehan sighs against Montparnasse's neck. "My Christmas will be ruined if you will not be with me."

"We can always meet after the party." the younger says, almost promising it. "So we will be together anyway but Christmas will be drama free."

Jehan thinks about it and then nods. "Sounds like a plan." he admits, however is not happy with it. Why he can't have a nice night with his friends _and_ his loved one like any other person? Like Marius, Joly, or Enjolras?

Probably he wouldn’t have problems like this if he was dating Courfeyrac.

Oh dear lord above, he didn’t really thought that.

He sighs and moves away from Montparnasse, not even trying to hide how sad he is and how frightening that thought was. "Let's sleep, we both have to wake up early."

And when Jehan turns away, lying on his side so that he gives his back to the him, Montparnasse tries not to be bothered by it, but what he's supposed to think when the boy that sleeps with his head on his chest suddenly decides to stop doing so?

It's not even the first night.

"Goodnight" he kisses Jehan's neck and sets up to sleep on his side of the bed, wrapped in warm sheets, without hair tingling his neck all the night.

 

* * *

 

Musichetta's house (never- _never_ -, call it the house of Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet) looks exactly like a set for the ultimate cliché Christmas movie: there is a giant Christmas tree with presents under it, wrapped in red and green paper, there are decorations on the walls, lights all around, and, in order to complete the atmosphere, there is a scent of cookies filling the air.

Musichetta herself is dressed as Santa ( a very sexy Santa with a mini skirt, and a pair of red boots to the knee with high heels -and sometimes Courfeyrac wonders if he really wants to know so much about his friends’ kinks.) and she goes around the house offering cookies as they wait for everyone to arrive.

Joly and Bossuet are currently arguing over the fact that Bossuet went outside without a hat. Joly is really worried that, without hair to keep his head warm, Bossuet will catch a cold, and Bossuet is trying to tell Joly that he's fine and he will not spend the holidays sick in bed.

Bahorel, like every year, is lying on the couch, eating lazily some cookies and zapping between channels on TV, but instead of arguing with Feuilly, Feuilly is lying on top of him, and it wouldn't be too much strange if it wasn't for Bahorel's hand on Feuilly's ass.

 Gladly nobody is daring to say anything about that, even if Feuilly is totally going to give Bahorel a speech once at home.

Cosette, dressed as a Christmas elf, is setting the table for the dinner, smiling at Marius, who is really thinking about how would it be to spend Christmas with Cosette being his wife, in their house, maybe with some kids. He decided he likes the idea, and blushes like a schoolgirl when Cosette looks at him and smiles.

He loves her so much, he can't really see his future without her.

This is what welcomes Jehan when he finally arrives, a good twenty minutes late because he tried to persuade Montparnasse to come with him anyway, and it seems so normal that everything is okay until Musichetta frowns.

"Where is Montparnasse?" she asks looking behind Jehan's shoulder, almost expecting Montparnasse to appear there.

"He..." Jehan takes a deep breath. "He decided to not come." he says quickly, feeling unnecessary to explain more.

Apparently everyone heard that, because they stop doing what they are doing and just stare at Jehan. Maybe one or two people are asking themselves if  everything is okay between the two, but nobody voices that thought.

"Well..." Musichetta starts, then she looks briefly at her boys who look really concerned. She can't say she's not someone relieved by this, or that she is not thinking that Montparnasse showed some common sense, but at the same time she understands it must be horrible for Jehan to be alone. "I'll take the plate off the table." she says.

Jehan smiles a little, grateful that she didn't comment on it for too long.

From the other side of the room Courfeyrac stares at Jehan and his mind goes blank. _No, not alone_. He can't deal with Jehan alone, not after what happened the last time they were almost alone.

Combeferre's hand squeezing his comes like water in the desert, and Courfeyrac really has to stop himself from grabbing his face and kissing him in front of everyone.

In front of _Jehan_.

Enjolras, being the only one in the room that knows about what happened between his two best friends, give them a warning look.

Bossuet and Joly quickly help Jehan to put the presents under the tree; at this point there is barely room under it and it looks like someone decided to play Tetris with the boxes.

"Enjolras, is your boyfriend always so damn late?" Musichetta asks, her high heels clicking on the floor as she approaches them ( _Dominatrix_ , Courfeyrac thinks looking at the way she seems to rule the room.)

"Usually? Yes." Enjolras replies simply.

"He was late even at my part.!" Bahorel says from the couch. He's hungry, damn, if Grantaire is late because he's already drunk he will punch him.

"It's Christmas!" Musichetta says with indignation. Who is late for Christmas?

"They'll be here soon." Cosette says folding a table napkin to make it looks like a little swan.

Speaking of the devil, Grantaire and Eponine arrive a few minutes later, two big bags full of presents, but at least not drunk.

Enjolras is sure he's in some alternative reality because not only Eponine is dressed like an elf (the same dress ad Cosette, just with a hat with reindeer horns), but Grantaire wear the same dress, with fake ears too and he looks _jubilant_.

For how long they have been planning this? Santa and his -well, her- elves?

Enjolras is still under shock when Grantaire kisses him and whispers into his ear a soft "Merry Christmas dear."

Hard to tell what makes Enjolras so uncomfortable: if how short is the tunic or the withe tighs with red and green stripes. He has seen Grantaire enough time naked to know that there is very little left to the imagination.

"What's wrong?" Grantaire finally asks, his breath already smells like vodka -so he's not drunk but he already started drinking.

"You are...dressed _like an elf_." Enjolras keeps his voice low because he knows everyone is looking and he knows it's Courfeyrac who is softly laughing in the background.

"So are Cosette and Eponine. I thought it was a brilliant idea." Grantaire points at the two girls. Enjolras nods, even if brilliant is not the word he would use. "How do I look? Grantaire asks making a quick twirl.

"Great." Enjolras answers; there is no point in ruining Grantaire's mood when he's so happy. Especially because he’s really never _this_ happy.

"I knew you would appreciate." Grantaire smiles and kisses Enjolras again. "Wait for your present, you will love it." he adds with a wink, and Enjolras knows, with that simple phrase, that it's going to be a long night.

"If you two are done with the boyfriend stuff." Musichetta starts. "We can eat and then make the party starts?"

“Yeah let’s eat, I’m starving.” Bahorel declares from the couch, giving to Feilly’s ass a single light pat to tell him to move.

“Said the one that has been eating cookies for the past ten minutes.” Feuilly first punches Bahorel’s arm, then gets up from the couch.

“I am a big guy who needs his food.” Bahorel comments shrugging and ignoring the empty small bowl on the floor that was full of cookies.

“Just tell me it’s not Bossuet who cooked.” Courfeyrac almost begs looking at the table and deciding where to sit. “I don’t want to get food poisoning.”

“Hey!” Bossuet says frowning. “Not funny, Courfeyrac.”

“Nothing against you, buddy, but with your luck we can never tell.” Courfeyrac explains.

“Don’t worry, I cooked, with some help from Cosette.” Musichetta explains sharing a smile with the blonde girl now sit next to Marius.

“Oh good, we’ll survive then.” Courfeyrac seems satisfied with the chefs.

* * *

 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Marius starts standing up. “But I wanted to make a toast.” When he has everybody’s attention, he goes on. “We all decided that Christmas is to be celebrated with the one we love, that’s why we are here tonight, because half of us have a fucked up situation with their families and we agreed that we are a big family.”

Cosette gently squeezes Marius’ hand that it’s not holding the glass, knowing too well that Marius is talking from experience.

“This year some of us are celebrating their first Christmas with their beloved one and I wanted to make a toast to them. To love.” Marius says. “To Grantaire and Enjolras, who after years of pining and shouting and generally sexual tension finally admitted how much they love each other. Really guys, it’s amazing to see you sitting next to each other holding hands and not arguing: it’s a big improvement.”

Enjolras coughs a little embarrassed: he doesn’t like to talk so freely about his relationship. “Thank you, Marius.”

“Really touching.” Grantaire mocks, and when Enjolras subtly tries to pull away his hand, he just holds it tighter as to remark that he can and that’s fantastic. “I could cry for your kind words. Remind me to let you do the speech at our wedding.”

Enjolras blushes and gives Grantaire a look, Grantaire looks away cursing his stupid sense of humor. Talking about weddings? He must be crazy.

“Shut up, you don’t know how hard was to deal with you two when you weren’t together, Marius is right.” Courfeyrac says.

“Exactly.” Marius speaks again. “The toast is also for Bahorel and Feuilly.” He adds looking at the two. “I really don’t know what to say, you two surprised everyone, but you look happy and that’s what’s important.”

“Happy is a big wor…” Feuilly starts, but before he can finish, Bahorel is kissing him, giving a show for the others, and who is he to disagree?

“See? This is how you react about a toast, not making fun of the one speaking.” Courfeyrac says to Grantaire and Enjolras.

“Yup, a good show.” Eponine comments with a low whistle when it’s clear that there is a lot of tongue involved in the kiss.

“Sorry.” Bahorel says smirking and looking at Feuilly –really he was going to never have this ?- “Go on Marius.”

Marius nods and looks at Jehan. “I was going to make a toast to you and Montparnasse, but he’s not here and…”

“It’s okay.” Jehan says forcing himself to smile and hide how he wishes the other was with him. “I don’t think anybody would toast to us, not after what he did.”

He asks himself if anybody would rather make a toast to loves that never happened, that never had a chance, and when he looks at Courfeyrac, the other is looking at him and he feels even worse.

“Jehan…”Musichetta starts.

“No.” Jehan says more than happy to have an excuse to look away from Courfeyrac. "I actually need to say this. I know Grantaire told you about..." how can he say this without making it sound so awful to himself? "Montparnasse's past. The fact that none of you came to me and told me to quit with him immediately shows that you trust me enough to let me make my own decisions. Yet, I am sure you have been super vigil, and I wanted to thank you."

Everyone looks at Grantaire who just shrug making clear that he wasn’t the one talking with Jehan.

“We were worried.” Cosette says for everyone. “We still are.” She adds honestly.

“I would be worried too in your position, considering what Montparnasse did.” Jehan’s eyes move to Eponine with a silent apology in them.

Eponine stiffens a little, glad to be sitting next to Cosette, because the other girl rests her hand on her forearm and the warmth is comforting.

Courfeyrac frowns looking at Jehan, then at Eponine, missing whatever is happening between them, and then everyone else seems to understand it and he feels cut off.

“Sorry… but what are we talking about?” he asks confused. He doesn’t remember talking with Grantaire about Montparnasse.

“Uhm…about the fact that?” Jehan is as confused as the other. He’s sure that Courfeyrac would remember something like that. “… and also the fact that he gave Grantaire the drugs?”

The last bit of information is new for everybody except Eponine and Enjolras, so the rest of the group is too shocked to actually realize what’s going to happen.

Grantaire curses under his breath and Enjolras place a kiss on the base of his neck

“He _hit_ Eponine?” Courfeyrac asks, then he looks at the girl for a moment: she looks fine, so it’s not something new. What kind of asshole hit a girl? Okay, Eponine is not exactly miss good manners, but she doesn’t deserve to be hit.

“Courfeyrac…” Combeferre tries to say anything, realizing that all their efforts to keep the truth from Courfeyrac were useless.

“Wait.” Courfeyrac frowns hearing the voice of his friend and looking at him “Why nobody is surprised? You knew it?”

The silence falling in the room is an eloquent answer.

 “You two are supposed to be my oldest friends.” Courfeyrac says to Combeferre and Enjolras with a mocking tone. “And you kept something like that from me? How could you?”

“Let us explain.” Combeferre says quickly. He told them it was a bad idea to not tell Courfeyrac, he told them. He knew he would find out anyway and he would react like this.

“Later.” Courfeyrac decides sharply. “I need some air.” He declares already getting his coat from the pile of coats near the door.

When the door closes with a loud _thump_ , Bahorel is the one who breaks the stunned silence in the room . “Congratulation to everyone, operation mouth shut and eyes open worked perfectly.”

Feuilly gives Bahorel another punch on the arm. “It’s not the moment.”

“He didn't know?" Jehan asks confused. He never thought that someone couldn't know about it. And he should have, making assumptions is never a good thing.

"No." Combeferre answers looking at the poet. He has to remind himself that it's not Jehan's fault, that he couldn't know about their decision because he wasn't there. "Considering his feelings for you we thought it was better to not tell him, to avoid exaggerated reactions." Well, it was useless since Courfeyrac found a way to do something exaggerated anyway, but at least it took him a couple of months to reach the boiling point.

"I am sorry." Jehan says honestly.

"He was going to find out soon or later." Combeferre admits. "Actually, thank you, I didn't like to keep that from him. So if it wasn't you, it would have been me." or Cosette, probably Cosette.

"I should go talking to him." Jehan decides after a few seconds of silence. They agreed on being honest with each other and he will not let his best friend be pissed off at Christmas, it's completely unacceptable. Especially not for something his boyfriend did.

Before anyone can try to stop him (and Combeferre and Musichetta look like they really want to stop him), Jehan is already out of the door, coat in his hand, ready to find the other.

In the background, the Christmas compilation keeps filling the room with Christmas songs, sang with happy voices that seem really out of context.

Musichetta sighs and drops on the couch next to Bahorel and Feuilly, her skirt rising up a little bit, forcing her to pull it down with her hand. "One Christmas without drama, will we ever have it?"

"I doubt it." Eponine comments, her fingers playing with the napkin just to do something. "It's us, I mean, we are a big bag full of drama, when we are all together the thing explodes."

* * *

 

There is a thin layer of snow on the empty street, the air is cold but the sky is clear, a good omen for no more snow; the voices from the buildings make up for the lack of life outside yet, there is a peculiar comfort in the silence that helps Courfeyrac thinks.

He can’t decide what makes you feel more wounded, if the fact that Jehan knew about all the stuff and yet he keeps dating Montparnasse ( he should really stop asking himself why, it’ not healthy, and it’s useless) or the fact that his friends kept a secret from him. All of them.  
Even Combeferre.  
Combeferre, who took care of him, that made his day a little less miserable, that helped him and gave him advice and has been his rock for months.  
Combeferre who sleeps with him.

Now, Courfeyrac believes in sex for the sake of sex, he slept with a lot of people and he never felt morally obligated to never lie to them or be honest with them, but Combeferre? Combeferre is his friend, Combeferre was there before Jehan, and Combeferre decided to keep something from him.  
It’s complicated.

No, he shouldn’t blame only him, because Enjolras kept his mouth shut as well. What kind of friends are they?  
And Grantaire! Grantaire deliberately told everyone but him.

“Fuck it.” Courfeyrac hisses as he tries to light up a cigarette with frozen fingers. _Note to self: buy a pair of gloves._

He can’t blame anyone, because when he punched Montparnasse, he just showed them that they did the right thing.  
He only wished they could have told him, so he could have punched Montparnasse for some good reasons other than being a jealous idiot.

In the empty street the steps approaching him are loud, especially with snow creaking with every step.

“’Ferre, I told you we’ll talk later.” He says automatically, turning his head in the directions of the other person, just to frown. Jehan is there, half of his face hidden behind his scarf, hands in the pockets of his coat. “Ah, it’s you.”

Jehan stops just at the edge of the light cone cast by the street lamps under which Courfeyrac is smoking. “Things really changed if your first guess about who is coming after you is Combeferre and not me.”

_I am sleeping with Combeferre, not with you, that’s what changed._    
Courfeyrac locks that thought in the back of his mind and sighs. “I had few months when I couldn’t rely on you as I was used to.”

“I know.” Jehan finally moves closer, suppressing the urge to ask for a cigarette. He can’t start smoking again just because he feels like he lost his best friend and because he doesn’t know how to deal with his boyfriend. “I had no idea you didn’t know, I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

Courfeyrac takes a long drag from his cigarette and breathes out the smoke slowly, taking his time to collect his thoughts. “I don’t want to talk about it again, Jehan, really. I just want to finish my cigarette and calm down.”

Jehan nods in silence, remaining where he is, not too close to Courfeyrac, decided not to leave without the other.

“Actually, ” Courfeyrac says suddenly throwing the half smoked cigarette on the ground and crush it under his shoe. “Let’s talk about it, because I don’t understand how can _you_ date someone who hit Eponine and gave drugs to Grantaire. I thought you cared about your friends more than this.”

“Courfeyrac…” Jehan starts, but he stops when he can’t find a good way to reply, not when he knows the other has a point.  “I care about my friends, you know it.”

“Doesn’t disgusts you kissing someone like him?” Courfeyrac asks confused. “How can you sleep with him knowing what Grantaire have been through because of the drugs? Aren’t you afraid he would hit you too like he did with Eponine?”

Jehan looks down at his feet, taking a deep breath, how is he supposed to reply to something that he asked himself?

“I know I am a horrible friend, I know I should have dumped him immediately when I found out.” Jehan says calmly. “Staying with him makes me seem cruel, almost heartless, towards my friends. But…” he bites his bottom lip and takes another deep breath. “All these thoughts disappear when I am with him, I feel good and yes, it’s selfish, really really selfish, but I don’t want to stop feeling that way. Which makes me feel even worse because I am putting my own happiness before the happiness of the people I hold most dear.”

“Putting your happiness before ours wouldn’t be a problem if the person making you happy wasn’t the same that did so much harm to some of your friends.” Courfeyrac says loudly. If someone wants Jehan to be happy, it’s him, really. “I… no, nevermind.”

“We promised to be honest with each other.” Jehan reminds finally looking up at Courfeyrac. “You _what?”_

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” Courfeyrac mumbles ashamed of his own thoughts. Of course he knows Jehan, it’s a silly thing to think, but he still can’t see how he and Montparnasse can belong to the same picture. One is a criminal, arrogant, pretentious prick and the other is a sweet boy with the warmest smile on the earth.

Jehan blinks surprised and stares at Courfeyrac, he knew this was going to happen soon or later, he knew that explaining this side of him would be difficult. “It’s always me, Courfeyrac, I am not changed, I am just more complex than you believed.”

Courfeyrac frowns asking himself how much he doesn’t know about Jehan, then, how many surprises the other boy keeps.

“Listen,” Jehan starts taking his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest to keep himself warm against the cold air of late December. “I am aware of what kind of bad influence Montparnasse is, I am not trying to justify him, I am trying to forgive him, which is hard when I know that rationally I should date someone else, someone that maybe is not a criminal for example, someone with more emphaty, someone who doesn’t have so many secret, someone like you, but love doesn’t work like that and I can’t simply stop being in love.”

“What did you just say?” Courfeyrac asks, feeling a little bit dizzy.

“I can’t simply stop being in love?” Jehan asks confused.

“No, _before_ that.” Courfeyrac says with urgency.

Jehan thinks about his words and he realizes too late what he said. “I should date someone like you.”

In all honesty, Courfeyrac doesn’t know what to say. He thought he was over this whole story, but now his heart is beating fast, his mind forgetting the conversation they just had and all his doubts.

“I told you not to ask me.” Jehan whispers blushing. “What if scenarios aren’t good.”

“Do you mean that…” Courfeyrac hesitates. “That without Montparnasse you would have loved me?”

“I mean that _I don’t know_.” Jehan replies with a sigh. “And it’s scary because it’s not a no. I mean, it should be a no, right? I shouldn’t be thinking about” _us_ “this, but I am, and this mess scares me.”

It’s not a no, and yet for Courfeyrac is enough and too much at the same time: it’s enough to make him hope again, but it’s too much because he feels overwhelmed by the change in the air, by the way Jehan is looking at him.  
Like Courfeyrac is the only thing that exists in the universe at that precise moment.

The look into each other’s eyes and it’s clear that they both want the same thing.

Courfeyrac steps closer, slowly, still unsure, expecting the moment to just vanish as it started, almost _hoping_ for it to vanish.

But the moment doesn’t vanish, and when Courfeyrac touches Jehan’s face, with fingers as cold as ice, he makes a little smile, which is not an invitation, not really; it’s more like an encouragement.

It’s nothing like what happened at the Musain, this one is a real kiss, a tender and loving one that last until they are almost out of oxygen, none of them willing to pull away before it’s necessary, none of them willing to let go the moment.

This time they can’t pretend they didn’t kiss, it definitely happened, and Courfeyrac doesn’t know if he should apologize, laugh, or run away crying. How do you react when the boy you love kisses you but also loves his boyfriend and there is no way to change the status quo?

Jehan wraps his arms around Courfeyrac’s in a cautious hug, and hide his face between his neck and shoulder, wishing he could hide from reality. He should feel guilty, after all he kissed someone who is not his boyfriend, but the truth is that in that moment, said boyfriend is far far away from his thoughts.

Courfeyrac hugs Jehan back, almost squeezing him in his arms, savoring a moment that he knows will soon be over and never happen again. If only this happened before, things would have been so much easier.  
Before, when Jehan wasn’t in love with someone who came out of the blue; before when Courfeyrac wasn’t in some kind of complicated relationship with one of his friends.

“Jehan…”

“Shh.” Jehan whispers kissing Courfeyrac’s cheek. “If you speak the moment will be over. Wait a little longer.”

_It’s like trying to keep alive someone with a terminal illness_ , Courfeyrac thinks, but he keeps it for himself.

They remain like that, on Christmas night, holding each other under a street lamp, freezing to death, for almost five minutes, without saying a single word.

“We should go back.” Jehan says pulling away reluctantly. “They’ll worry about us.”

Courfeyrac nods, his arms letting Jehan go. For a moment he thinks about how easy would be to kiss Jehan again. And again, until they stop caring about anything or anyone.  
But a kiss can be called a mistake, a weakness, two would be problematic, and he doesn’t want to force Jehan into a situation he doesn’t want.  
It’s not his choice.

“I can’t tell if this will be the best Christmas of my life or my worst.” Courfeyrac says joking, even if his words are partially true.

“I don’t know either.” Jehan smiles a little, he’s still blushing and he can still feel butterflies in his stomach.

“What are you going to say to Montparnasse?” Courfeyrac asks like if it’s the most important question in the universe.

Jehan looks up at the clouded sky and pursues his lips. “He doesn’t have to know.” he decides. “He’s not the only one who can keep a secret.”

Courfeyrac asks himself if he will be able to not tell Combeferre, and he can’t find a secure answers like Jehan. “He’s still your boyfriend, are you sure you can… keep this from him?”

“I’ll try, for our sake.” Jehan sighs. “He wouldn’t understand and I don’t want to fight again with him, I hate fighting with him.”

“To be honest” Courfeyrac says. “I don’t really understand what happened either.”

Jehan frowns and tilts his head. “It’s not hard to understand, Courfeyrac. _I love you_. Not the way you want, not the way you love me, but I do love you and I wanted you to know.”

Courfeyrac stares at Jehan aghast. “How can you say something like that so easily?”

“ _Easily_?” Jehan asks shocked. “It’s not easy, Courf. Feeling this way, dealing with my mixed emotions… it’s _not_ easy. Do you think that it’s easy to kiss you and meet Montparnasse in a couple of hours?”

“I am sorry, wrong choice of words.” Courfeyrac mumbles. “It’s just that, well, I wasn’t expecting all of this.”

“Neither I.” Jehan comments. It’s not like he went to the party with the intention of kissing Courfeyrac, absolutely not. It just happened.

“So, uhm, a last question.” Courfeyrac says embarrassed. “If you know you should date someone like me… why we aren’t dating?”

“I said I _rationally_ know it.” Jehan replies gently. “But love is not rational, that’s it. I am attracted to Montparnasse’s view of the world, to his morality –well the _lack_ of it-, because he’s different from me, and we are attracted to what we lack.”

Yes, definitely, he’s a sadist and he likes being stabbed in the heart.  
“Okay, now we should really go back.” Courfeyrac decides before the conversation actually ruin the memory of their kiss.

* * *

 

Montparnasse is used to the cold air of late winter nights, he’s used to wait somewhere hidden in the dark, he’s used to the silence of the night; so it’s not a big deal waiting for Jehan in front of a closed shoe shop.  
The problem is waiting and doing nothing, he almost considered the idea of a night time shopping, and the only thing that stopped him was the fact that it’s Christmas.  
He’s not _that_ evil, come on.  
So instead he keeps reading and re-reading the messages came from Musichetta when he was dealing with a drunk Claquesous.

**Musichetta:** Not coming was the right thing. At least you have some common sense.

**Musichetta:** Jehan misses you, he looks so sad. He’s not singing and he always sings Silent Night.

**Musichetta:** I have no idea why I am wasting my money with you. Or time.

**Musichetta:** Ah yes, for Jehan. He loves you. Make him sad like tonight again and I’ll rip your heart from your chest.  
  
 **Musichetta:** If you have a heart, on of course. I still have to decide.

Clearly, Musichetta is a charming creature, a lioness ready to devour anyone with hostile intentions that comes near her puppies.  
Montparnasse can’t decide if he likes her or not. Probably yes.  
He’s sure that he’s sorry for leaving Jehan alone, even if he knows it was for the best.

How he ended up falling in love and caring for someone is still a mystery to him. When they started dating he would have never thought to still be with him for Christmas, it was a kind of game: Jehan was cute and smart and interesting and really all that he wanted was to get into his pants, but from there it was a downhill and Jehan conquered him totally.

And so here they are, meeting at 2 am on a cold Christmas night, happy to be exactly where they are.

As soon as he’s close enough, Jehan throws himself in Montparnasse’s arms and kisses him on the mouth; a sense of guilt finally started to creep onto his skin, and he’s desperately trying to ignore it.

“Merry Christmas.” He says sounding as joyful as he can.

“Merry Christmas to you.” Montparnasse replies gently. “How was the party?”

At the question, Jehan slowly pulls himself away. “Did I ever tell you that Christmas is cursed?”

“Cursed?” Montparnasse asks unsure.

“Yes, since we started celebrating it together, ignoring our families, every single year something dramatic happens.” Jehan explains taking the other’s hand in his and starting walking.“The first years Bossuet broke his foot, we thought it was just his bad luck, but the next year Combeferre got a very high fever; then the first year Marius joined us, he accidentally set fire to the Christmas Tree; after that Musichetta’s necklace broke and Bossuet slipped on it and he broke his arm; Cosette first year ended with us going to jail to bail Grantaire out because the police stopped him driving drunk.”

“I remember that.” Montparnasse informs. “Grantaire came to the motel next day and told us the whole story.”

It’s strange to share with Montparnasse a memory of years ago, Jehan realizes, yet it’s reassuring knowing that their lives had something in common. “Two years ago Courfeyrac locked himself out on the balcony for an hour and almost froze to death, last year Enjolras cut his hand with a pair of scissors opening a present.” He stops and sighs. “This year was my fault.”

Montparnasse doesn’t comment on the list, even if he must admit it makes them seem like a group of idiots. “What happened?”

“I accidentally told Courfeyrac about what you did to Eponine and Grantaire, but he didn’t know so he got upset.” Jehan says carefully looking at the other.

“Good thing I wasn’t there, then. I have some rules against fighting at Christmas.”

“Can you be serious?” Jehan asks squeezing Montparnasse’s hand. “I ruined Christmas, it’s important.”

“Sorry. I am sure you fixed everything.” The younger says confidently. If someone can fix something like that, it’s Jehan with his kindness.

“Let’s say I did.” Jehan states, because it’s better than saying that he fixed it with a kiss. If it fixed something, of course. “Still, I missed you.” He says pulling the other closer for another kiss. If he tries, maybe he will be able to bury that one kiss under so many kisses that nobody will ever find it. “How was your party?”

Montparnasse frowns remembering Gueulemer getting drunk and throwing himself at him knocking him down on the floor and shouting something about Babet that he didn’t care to hear; Claquesous spending the whole night around him and teasing him about his new girlfriend, trying to touch him a little bit too much; Gavroche making fun of everyone as always; and Azelma in a corner trying not to get into any kind of trouble. “Good, nothing special.”

“But Christmas _is_ special.” Jehan points out and he would get mad at it if he wasn’t walking hand in hand under a starry sky with the man he loves (and god only knows how it’s everything he ever wanted.)

“Christmas stopped being special when I found out that Santa Claus is not real.” Montparnasse shrugs.

“Christmas is about love and caring, it’s about spend time with your family and the people you love…”

“Say the one who sent an email to his mother and nothing more.”

Jehan rolls his eyes, it’s not his fault if his mother, once he had a running business and his own life, decided to go on with her widowed life in Italy. The shop gives him enough money to pay for an employee, a flat and books and dresses when he needs them, but he can’t simply fly to Florence when he wants; and if he has to go there, he’d rather go there in spring or September when the weather is lovely.

“Well, my friends _are_ my family, and I am their family as well. Actually, for some of them, we are the only family they have.” Jehan replies thinking about Feuilly, orphan when he was a child who never get really attached to his foster family, about Marius and his grandfather and their never-ending fights, about Musichetta and how her family never understood her choice to love two boys and not one just like any normal girl, about Eponine whose parent did more harm than good. “I can say proudly that I spent the Christmas with my family.”

It’s not hard to understand for Montparnasse, in some twisted way his friends too are his family, even if their relationship is not remotely similar to the one between Jehan and his friends, but they too went through a lot together, and okay maybe they are not willing to risk anything for each other, but they are in this miserable world together and they have each other’s back.

“About family…” Jehan starts unsure, holding tighter Montparnasse’s hand. “You never talk about your parents.” All he knows about Montparnasse’s family is that he’s an only child as are his parents, but it’s not a subject they talk about a lot. “How is your relationship with them?”

Montparnasse thinks about it, and he asks himself what relationship, because there is no relationship between them. “I don’t talk about them because I don’t care about them; when I was eighteen I moved out and it was the end of it.”

Most of his friends did the same, starting from Feuilly, so it’s something that doesn’t surprise Jehan. “But why? Combeferre and Enjolras moved together when they were eighteen as well, but they still talk with their families or about them.”

“Because they didn’t really care about me in the first place. We have never been close, never had the chance. My father was a workaholic, my mother worked too and had a busy social life, they spent more time in the office than at home, I grew up mostly on my own.” Montparnasse explains, his gaze lost in the distance as he recalls days spent in the after school waiting for them to pick him up, and all the days they made him wait for hours and hours. “Then, when I was old enough, I became the kid that wastes his afternoons doing nothing and going around; they never knew because I was always back at home before them. After that I started to sneak out at night, and they never noticed. I started smoking, and they never noticed. I joined a criminal gang and they never noticed. Hell, I even brought home some drugs to sell them the next day and _they never noticed_.”

Jehan frowns when Montparnasse freezes and stop talking and let go of his hand. Clearly something is changed, but he can’t quite tell what exactly.  
  
“’Parnasse?”

“I never realized how pissed off I really was about the whole situation until now.”

The anger that Montparnasse is feeling is new to him; new in a way that struck him and leaves him speechless for a while. He thought he never really cared about his childhood, about the years under his parents’ roof, their indifference was a subject that left him as indifferent as they were. After all, it was during one of his nocturnal walks that he met a skinny girl about his age that later introduced him to the people he calls friends since that day.  
He thought it was fair, to some extent, he found himself a group of people he liked and that liked him, he found a way to spend the free time in his hands; who cares if he never had a proper family? Not him for sure.

He says that to Jehan so, who quickly pulls him into a comforting and reassuring hug.

“It’s perfectly understandable.” Jehan whispers gently. “Anybody would feel like this with parents like yours.”

“And now you know why I don’t talk about them.” Montparnasse states deciding to end the conversation there. “For what I know family is somewhere you belong to, and honestly I never had that, not really.”

“You belong with me.” Jehan says with resolution taking Montparnasse’s face in his hands and kissing him gently. It’s low to say something like that after what happened with Courfeyrac, and he feels the guilty hitting him fully.

“Yes, I do.” Montparnasse agrees and he laughs. Not one of his mocking laughs, or the controlled laugh that he usually uses; but a real, heartfelt laugh.

It’s a rare sight, and also marvelous and Jehan can’t do anything but stare; he can’t tell if he’s more fascinated by the way Montparnasse curls his lips, or the way he slightly bows his head, or the way his whole body echoes with it.  
It makes Jehan want to write poems about it, about how honest it sounds and how he feels himself better just listening at it.

It makes Jehan feeling sorry because how could he kiss someone else? _How ?_  
His mind and his heart should really take a coherent position, because he doesn’t like to feel this rollercoaster of emotions.  
He can’t go on from asking himself what he could have with Courfeyrac to feeling like Montparnasse is the only person in the whole planet that he wants in his life.  
He simply can’t.  
He’s hurting both of them (and even himself) and it’s totally unfair.

Slowly, Montparnasse stops laughing and notices Jehan’s attention on him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jehan says quickly with a half-smile. “I like the way you laugh.”

An almost embarrassed expression passes over Montparnasse’s face. “It must be Christmas and its magic.” he says shrugging. It better be Christmas, because if he’s becoming this soft maybe, a _nd just maybe_ , Claquesous has a right in making fun of him.

“Told you: _Christmas is special_.” Jehan replies with satisfaction. “ Let’s go home now, it’s late and I want my present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I going to do with my characters and this situation? How will I ever get out of this mess?  
> Sometimes I don't know, sometimes I do. If this makes no sense I apologize, but it makes zero sense to my characters too.
> 
> A BIG thank you to everyone who helped me decide if let Montparnasse at the party or not.
> 
> A even BIGGER thank you to Nana because I wasn't sure about how to deal with Montparnasse's anger with his parents.
> 
> Since this is a J/M fic, I think it's appropriate to tell you that on tumblr, from July 29th to August 4th, it will be Jehan/Montparnasse week! Feel free to lurk or share some works.
> 
> My tumblr is still [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/) say hi or anything, if you like.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Courfeyrac can't keep a secret from Combeferre, Bahorel doesn't like the decorations for his goodbye party, Montparnasse spend the night in a corner, Grantaire and Enjolras have a conversation on the rooftop, Eponine doesn't like all the love around her, and Feuilly watches My Little Pony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umh, yes, summer was long, wasn't it?   
> I could say I was somewhere having fun, but true is that I just dropped this for a while so I could relax a little. (the amount of stress that gives being a fanfic writer is unbelievable)  
> Sorry for the waiting and I hope you'll like this.
> 
> Usually notes: english is not my first language, I don't have a beta and all mistakes are mine.

The standard decorations for the New Year party at Courfeyrac’s place are: mistletoe, mistletoe, mistletoe, and more mistletoe.

There is not a single doorway without some mistletoe hanging down: it’s clear that Courfeyrac wants to trick his friends into kissing every time they walk in or out of a room.  
And this time there is mistletoe even at the front door, so whoever will not kiss will not be accepted into the house.

It’ simply brilliant.

Anyway, this year, there is one more decoration: a giant festoon with the words HAPPY NEW YEAR  that is currently on a table because Courfeyrac is adding, with some tape, two A4 paper pieces with the words WE’LL MISS YOU BAHOREL, written in Combeferre’s neat handwriting.

“I think we can hang this.” Courfeyrac announces with pride. He looks around trying to decide where “There!” he points at the wall above the kitchen door.

Combeferre, who is the only one helping the party host since Marius left in order to get Cosette, nods in agreement. “I think everybody will see it.”

“Perfect.” Courfeyrac comments; he takes a chair and drags it to the wall, then he climbs on it. “Bring me the thing.”

Combeferre does as told, holding the festoon carefully hoping that the two papers will not fall before the party. “Be careful on that chair.”

“Don’t worry, dear.” Courfeyrac answers with a smirk. He has to stand on his tip toe to tape the banner on the wall, but he manages not to fall.

“Can I ask you a question?” Combeferre asks as the other jump from the chair and moves it to the other side of the door frame.

“Sure.” Courfeyrac replies climbing on the chair once again.

Combeferre moves closer to the chair and raises up his head to look up at the other. “Will Montparnasse join us, tonight?”

For a second, the festoon almost slips from Courfeyrac’s fingers. “Well…” he clears his throat. “Actually, yes. I don’t like the idea of having him in my house, I’ll be honest, but Jehan was heartbroken at Christmas and…” he shrugs. “I don’t want to see Jehan sad again.”

Combeferre nods in agreement; they can deal with Montparnasse if he –for some unknown reason to the human kind- can make Jehan happy.

“And, being honest again…” Courfeyrac goes on, taping the festoon to the wall. “I don’t want to be left alone with Jehan again.” Not after what happened both times they were alone.

“Why?” Combeferre asks adjusting his glasses on his nose.

Courfeyrac stands up motionless on the chair for a few moments, his mind still debating whether telling or not telling him. “There is something I must tell you.”

“You are worrying me.” Combeferre admits frowning; he never saw Courfeyrac so unsure. He helps him get down from the chair and waits for whatever he must tell him.

Courfeyrac takes a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll not get mad.” His fingers start playing with the hair behind Combeferre’s ear. Maybe if he stays close and does his best puppy eyes it will not sound that bad.

“Courfeyrac.” Combeferre urges with kindness.

“Okay, okay, I’m telling you!” Courfeyrac takes another deep breath. “Uhm Jehan and I…we…kissed. Twice.” Okay he said it, he did it. It wasn’t so bad, after all.

Combeferre looks at the other, in part glad that there is nothing serious to worry about, but he’s also very concerned about it. Actually, he’s so concerned about the possible consequences that he ignores his own discomfort. “When?”

“Well, do you remember when I stormed out at Christmas and he came after me?” it’s a rhetorical question, of course the other remembers. “Well, we discussed and we kissed and we discussed a little more and came back.”

Not a comment from Combeferre:  “And the other one?”

Courfeyrac bites his bottom lip. “Do you remember when finally Jehan and I talked about my feelings for him and then you and Enjolras rescued me? Well, it wasn’t a proper kiss but… yeah.”

Combeferre frowns, his mind kindly reminds him that it was also the same night when they first kissed and it really puts everything under a new light. No, it’s not new, he has always known.

“I am sorry, I really am.” Courfeyrac says quickly. “It just happened, never planned it… and yeah, it’s a mess. Are you angry?”

“I am more concerned about the fact that you and Jehan kissed and Jehan has a boyfriend who already punched you in the face for less.” Combeferre says quietly taking a step away from Courfeyrac. “What were you two thinking?”

“So you _are_ angry.” Courfeyrac says not really surprised. He expected that, and he doesn’t know how to be sorry enough. “I shouldn’t have. He has a boyfriend and I…well, there is us.” he moves and hand between them as to indicate a sort of connection. “If you think that I don’t care about…”

“I know you do.” Combeferre interrupts him. “But I also know that I have no right to be angry because you kissed the boy you love. Trust me, Courfeyrac, I never expected you to stop having feelings for him.”He’s not a fool, feelings don’t work that way. It takes time to stop loving someone, if it ever works, especially after years.

There are hundreds of things that Courfeyrac could reply to that, he could start with telling Combeferre to stop accepting everything like that because he’s not a saint and he has a right to be pissed off at things, sometimes. “Still, as he cheated on Montparnasse, I cheated on you and I am sorry. I know I said that already, but I am.”

Two kisses are hardly cheating, not when the situation is so complicated, and not when everybody knows how exuberant is Courfeyrac’s sexual life. “There are two different situations: they have been together for eight months.”

“And we have been friends for _years_.” Courfeyrac retorts. “Just because we started sleeping together recently it doesn’t mean that our relationship is less important than theirs.”

“I am not making comparisons.” Combeferre says, calm as always. “But objectively there are differences…”

“Because our relationship is not public?” it’s Courfeyrac turns to interrupt. “Really, ‘Ferre, your logic can work better than this.”

Combeferre shakes his head. “Because they are in love, or so they told even after what happened we could discuss that statement, while we…well, you are in love with Jehan. As I said: two different situations.”

Everything seems even worse coming from Combeferre’s mouth, Courfeyrac realizes, because it makes him sound like someone that is just using Combeferre and, well, it’s not completely true. There are feelings, even if they are suffocated by the feelings he has for Jehan. The problem is that the latter has been made stronger with time and the former are still changing and settling into something new.

He loves Combeferre, _he does_ , he’s ready to fight whoever says the contrary, but not in the same way that Combeferre does. Not yet.

And for God’s sake that’s exactly what Jehan told him and now Courfeyrac feels like the stupidest being the whole universe because he understands.  
He understands _perfectly_.

The mixed feelings, the inability to choice and decide once for all, the constant feeling of being torn between what you have and what you could have.

_Woah, it sucks._

“Anyway, I don’t want to let something like that happen again, but at the same time I know that I am not able to think properly when we are alone…” Courfeyrac changes the topic, deciding that they are reaching a blind turn. “I invited Montparnasse so I am sure I’ll not do something stupid. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, it does.” Combeferre nods. A simple yes would have probably been better. “Even if I wish you didn’t tell me everything.”

“Hey, you could appreciate the fact that I told you!” Courfeyrac pouts. “I mean, you should see this as a sign of trust and will from me to don’t have secrets between us.”

A little smile crosses Combeferre’s face. “Do you realize that we established that the last year of high school, right?”

“Yes.” Courfeyrac agrees. “But we weren’t together at the time, it’s different.”

“No, not really. We are the same, we just sleep together now.” Combeferre says shrugging.

 

* * *

 

“You must be fucking kidding me.” Bahorel says deadly serious, his eyes fixed upon the festoon and the two pieces of papers under it.

Feuilly, just a step behind him, is covering his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his own laughter.

“What?” Marius asks clueless.

“I am going away for god knows how long and all I get are two piece of papers?” Bahorel asks outraged.

“Hey it’s not like they sell stuff with your name on it, you should really appreciate the fact that there we wrote your name on it.” Courfeyrac replies with confidence. Not his best done idea, okay, but he wrote it with his heart.  
Okay, _Combeferre_ wrote it.  
And okay maybe it’s because he fucking forgot to buy something to wish goodbye to Bahorel.  
He had other problems.  
He can only hope that being punched by Bahorel will not be one.

“They are right.” Feuilly comments when he’s able to control his laugh (is Eponine the one laughing, leaning against Grantaire with a beer in her hand) “There is your name on it.”

“Which side are you on, dude?” Bahorel turns his head to the ginger even more outraged.

“Well, you are going away, while I’ll stay here with them, so…” Feuilly shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Judas.” Bahorel hisses before pulling Feuilly closer for a rough kiss.

“Hey, no blasphemy in this house!” Courfeyrac announces pulling his friends away. “And absolutely no kissing if not under the mistletoe.”

“Then we should be glad you put it everywhere.” Musichetta says, getting a collective laugh as a reaction.

 

* * *

 

Things aren’t that bad, considering that Feuilly is verging on the depressed side of his personality, Eponine is avoiding to even think about Montparnasse, and that when forced into the same room, Courfeyrac and Montparnasse do their best to stay as far as they can from each other.  
Mostly is thanks to the alcohol.

Even Jehan is drinking more than usual; he didn’t expect this to be hard, not at all, so he drinks to stop himself from thinking that he’s in the same room with his boyfriend and his best friend and that he kissed both. And that maybe he’d really like the possibility to kiss said best friend again.

The secret is crushing him under its weight.

Yet, he can’t drink too much because he’s afraid of what he would do drunk, he needs to stay sober enough to remind himself to behave and not to look at Courfeyrac too much, even if he knows the other is looking at him most of the time. It’s just a sensation, a shiver down his spine, but _he knows_.  
The last thing he wants is to be obvious and getting asked strange questions.

“Jehan.” Montparnasse’s voice is made softer by concern.

“What?” Jehan almost jumps out of his skin as the familiar voice drags him away from his thoughts. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” Montparnasse asks seriously. “You are drinking a lot.”

“Fine, absolutely fine. It’s the end of the year I am allowed a drink or two.” Jehan smiles innocently, but he knows from the look on Montparnasse’s face that it’s not working. “I am fine, really.”

Montparnasse has seen Jehan being fine and he knows that Jehan is not fine. “If something was wrong you would tell me, right?”

Jehan keeps his smile on. “Of course.” He lies openly. Everything is wrong, his feelings are wrong, his indecision is wrong. But he can’t say it out loud.

“Good.” Montparnasse says not really convinced. When he kisses Jehan he cannot not notice how quickly the other moves away to join his friends at the improvised karaoke. “Another one?” he asks, his hands around Jehan’s arm to stop him from going away.

“Montaparnasse.” Jehan sighs. “Courfeyrac is watching.” He points out when the corner of his eyes catches his friend staring in their general direction.

 _Let him watch_ , Montparnasse thinks.“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yes, but...” Jehan looks down at his feet and bites his bottom lip. “I am not comfortable knowing how he feels.” He says softly. He doesn’t say that he’s not comfortable because he’s not sure how he feels in the first place.

“So Courfeyrac’s feelings are more important than kissing me?”

Jehan’s eyes lights up with a cold steel anger that Montparnasse knows too well at this point. Jehan bites his lip a little more, preventing himself to answer following his rage. “I care about Courfeyrac’s feelings, I am sorry you don’t.” he frowns. “And I kiss you enough so I don’t see why you should complain now.”

“Jehan…” Montparnasse starts.

“No, don’t.” Jehan shakes his head. “It’s not worth arguing, not tonight.” He states, and he leaves to join his friends in which is probably the worst karaoke in Paris.

Things aren’t that bad as long as you are not Montparnasse, left alone in a corner by your boyfriend -who has been acting strangely lately- in a room full of people that despite or hate you.

He has been in worse situations, he can definitely survive.

From his corner he has a perfect view of the party. Funny how he has been invited, but he’s not part of it.

At least nobody invites him to the karaoke, he consider it some kind of victory.

For being a goodbye party, nobody brings the subject, and when Musichetta does, she regrets immediately, because Grantaire and Eponine clings to Bahorel almost crying and Feuilly closes himself into a stubborn silence.

They are a peculiar group of friends, who pretend he’s not there as much as he doesn’t want to be there, and for the whole night Montparnasse asks himself if this is going to be his life if he wants to stay with Jehan.

 

* * *

 

 “Has anyone seen Grantaire?” Enjolras asks loudly as he emerges from Courfeyrac’s bedroom. When you lose Grantaire, you may never know where he ends up, after all.

“It’s the end of the year.” Eponine replies from the couch where she is lying, a hand over her forehead as if it could stop her spinning head. “He will be outside, try the rooftop. He always does that.” She sighs. Next time she will not challenge Musichetta with tequila shots.

Enjolras nods thankfully at the girl. If he knows the other, he will be out there without his jacket, slowly freezing and not noticing it because of the booze in his body; that’s why he grabs a warm blanket, ignoring the confused look on Courfeyrac’s face.

The door to the rooftop has a locket, technically, but it has been broken for years and nobody wants to pay for the replacement, probably because they forgot about it at some point; and Enjolras get out on the rooftop without any problem.

Just as Eponine predicted, Grantaire is there, leaning on the railing, smoking a cigarette and making smoke circles that disappear into the thin air .  
And as Enjolras, predicted, he forgot his jacket.

Suddenly Grantaire seems to notice the fact that he’s not alone, and his gaze move from the starry sky to the other boy joining him; he’s surprised not to be alone and he’s happy that is Enjolras. As much as he’s not happy that it’s him, among all the people, who comes to get him and bring him inside.

It must be close to midnight and someone noticed him disappear: of course they want to do the toast and the stuff people do and they want him there. Because people don’t hide somewhere hoping that nobody will not notice them missing from the party.

“Hey.” Enjolras says because Grantaire seems decided not to talk and when Grantaire doesn’t want to talk, it’s never good.

“Hey.” Grantaire says back. “Is that a blanket?” he asks pointing at the clothes in Enjolras’ hands.

“Uhm yes it is.” Enjolras looks down at the blanket. “I couldn’t find your jacket but I was sure you forgot it and it’s really cold here.”

Grantaire almost smiles. “You worried for me?”

“You say it like I never worry for you.” Enjolras protests. He worries constantly for Grantaire, but he’s not going to say it out loud, it would only help some of Grantaire’s paranoia.

“I am just surprised.” Grantaire whispers with a  shrug. “I mean: I am _still_ surprised.” He corrects himself bringing the cigarette to his lips. It’s the third since he’s up here, but his lungs can’t comply if for once it’s not his liver that suffers his vices.

It took Enjolras years to understand Grantaire’s mood swings, and sometimes he misses them completely because he’s human and Grantaire is unpredictable; but it’s clear that something is bother the other.

“What’s on your mind?”

 _A lot of stuff_ , Grantaire thinks, _so much stuff that scream in my head and try to get out by digging a hole in my brain_. “Just the end of the year.” He replies as Enjolras stops next to him, his back  to the railing.

“What’s about the end of the year?” Enjolras asks, his hands really don’t know what to do with the damn blanket. Should he just tug Grantaire in it without warning or…?

“It’s the end of the year.” Grantaire replies throwing the cigarette stub from the rooftop. “You know, the moment when you think about what you have done in the past twelve months, and what you could do in the next…”

“Most people find the end of the year as a moment of reflection and they use it to re-orders their idea, yes.” Enjolras nods. He’s one of them. It’s just a date on the calendar, but it’s as good as any others.

“Well, I don’t.” Grantaire admits. He can’t look at Enjolras even if he tries, which is pathetic, they are together, he should be able to do it.

“So what’s bothering you?” for someone who is used to keep his voice loud and clear and still and perfect for speeches, Enjolras is incredibly good at lower it the right way to make it sound delicate.

“Let it be.” Grantaire says. It’s an order. It’s a beg. It’s both. Or either. He’s not really sure. What he’s sure is that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Grantaire, _please_.” Enjolras says with the exact same tone, also unsure. The only difference is that he wants to talk about whatever is happening.

A cold breath of winter air tickles the back of Grantaire’s neck and gets into the collar of his shirt, mercilessly reminding him of the month and temperature. Maybe he should get that blanket.

“You know, people re-orders their lives at new year.” Grantaire starts. “But for me the end of a year means looking back at all my mistakes and weaknesses and all the shit I fucked up. The worst part is that then it’s new year and it’s even worse.” He takes a deep breath. He needs another cigarette or a drink. Or both. “Because I always start the year asking myself how much I will screw everything up this time.”

Enjolras listens –he always does after all-, to both the words and the self-loathing in Grantaire’s voice. “There is absolutely nothing that happened this year that makes you say that, maybe, it wasn’t such a bad year?”

Finally, Grantaire looks at Enjolras. _We got together, I kissed you for the first time and we woke together in the same bed,_ he wants to say, he needs to say it, for himself and for Enjolras, but how can he say it when it’s also the reason why he fears so much for the future?

“I am truly grateful for the months we had together, for all the silly dates, all the breakfasts _you_ burnt, for all the stupid texts...” _shit_ he’s sounding like someone that is dying, or breaking up with him. “Yes, for once this year wasn’t so bad considering I have finally everything I ever wanted. Well, if you don’t consider an ex-lover dating one of my friends and the fact that he was also my drug dealer and the reason why I argued with Eponine…” _oh shit again_ , Eponine was right, he really messed up their lives.  “Yes, okay, the last months were amazing.”

Enjolras frowns a little. “Then what’s the problem, Grantaire?”

“I am scared for the year that is starting.” Grantaire walks away because he has to do something with his body, he can’t just stay there next to the other and have this conversation. “ I mean this has been the year when we got together, but next will be the year when we will break up because I’ll do something very stupid or, most probably, you’ll understand what a waste of time is dating me.”

In a silence that seems to last for minutes, Enjolras carefully place the blanket on the railing to make sure that it will not fall on the street below and then moves toward Grantaire, stopping a few step in front of him.

He would like to shout at him because that’s the stupidest thing anybody ever said, but that’s not how he can deal with Grantaire, not when he’s like this, not now.

“Grantaire.” And to the owner of that name, it already sounds like an accusation. “Do you really think it could happen?”

“I do.” There is no hesitation in Grantaire’s voice. “Because every time that something nice happens to me, I find the way to destroy it. I’ve lived enough screwed up new year's eve to know that every year I manage to get worse.”

“That’s bullshit.” Enjolras says, standing where he is, not moving further or closer. “You are getting better. You are drug free, you are cutting your drinking, you are even drawing again. You had worse years that the one that is ending, Grantaire, so allow yourself to realize that things not always get worse.”

Grantaire throws his head back as he laughs. “Really? Are you going to give me the ‘things get better’ talk, Enjolras?” he regrets his tone as soon as he see the serious expression of the other’s face. “Okay, all right, I had worse years than this, _true_.” He agrees. “But I still believe what I say about the next.”

“So you are saying that you believe I will leave you?” Enjolras asks.

“Yes.” Grantaire nods. Come on, who wouldn’t leave him? He’s doing all he can do to get better, but it’s harder and harder every day and he’s losing motivation. He always loses motivation at some point, and he ends up doing the same mistakes and the same stuff again and again.

“I don’t know if it’s more offensive to me or to yourself.” Enjolras comments crossing his arms over his chest. “And I don’t know what is worse, knowing that you have so little faith in us or in yourself.”

“Think whatever you want, Enjolras.” Grantaire shrugs. “I know myself enough to be sure about what I’m saying.”

“Well, I know myself enough to be sure that we’ll start this new year together and we will end it together.” Enjolras states more angry that he should be.

“Time will tell us who is right.” Grantaire says cynically. Time always tells him that he’s right, after all.

Enjolras runs a hand through his hair and pulls them trying to calm himself. “I love you, Grantaire, does it mean anything to you or not?” It’s irritating to see the person you love to just don’t give a damn about your future.

“It means everything.” Grantaire answer. “ _Everything_ , Enjolras.”

"Really? Because it doesn't seem sometimes!" Enjolras pinches the bridge of his nose taking a deep breath. "You always do this, Grantaire, you always try to degrade our relationship to make it something insubstantial and almost meaningless as if you still think I have doubts.”

“I am not trying to degrade our relationship.” Grantaire says seriously. “I am trying not to hope too much, I am trying to keep my feet on the ground. I don’t want to think this can work just to find out I was wrong.” He explains with a bitter sadness in his voice.

“But this can work, Grantaire, we can work, we _are_ working, right here, right now!” Enjolras retorts exasperated. “You really think I would be dating you if I wasn’t sure this could work? It took me years to be sure that I really wanted this, that I could face everything that being in a relationship would mean, and that this wasn’t going to just hurt both of us in the end. So don’t mock my feelings telling me that you are sure I’m going to leave you!”

Grantaire watches Enjolras shaking his head and moving back to the railing and he doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s not being fair, not when Enjolras has proven again and again that he really wants to be with him, but he can’t hush that voice in his head that reminds him how everyone always leave and that, no matter what, he will never prove himself worth of Enjolras.

“I wish you could see how much I love you, Grantaire, I wish you could see _why_ I do.” Enjolras mumbles to himself. “Then you could understand that there is no way I could ever leave you.”

“It’s me Enjolras, I am not just going to…believe it” Grantaire explains. “You can’t expect that.” He walks toward the other with little steps, ready to just stop if he sees that Enjolras doesn’t want him to step into his personal space. But Enjolras let him stay beside him, he actually waits for him to stay close to speak again.

“I don’t.” Enjolras agrees. “And probably you will never believe it. Maybe in ten years we will have a conversation like this again, and I will probably get mad, I don’t deny it, but I will be there to say this again and again, every single time. I’ll be there, right by your side, as I am right now.”

Enjolras kisses Grantaire carefully, as if he’s expecting the other to turn his head and move away, and when Grantaire  kisses him back, not completely into the kiss, almost shyly, it still feels like he just won a battle.

 “I am sorry.” Grantaire whispers looking at his feet. “I don’t doubt your feelings Enjolras, well not anymore at least, it’s just that I know how fucked up I am and how awful must be being in a relationship with me.”

“It’s not easy, but not awful, not at all.” Enjolras says taking one of Grantaire’s hands in his. “I wouldn’t be with anyone else.”

Before Grantaire can say something and wipe away the shocked expression on his face, the sound of firework being lunched fills the air, and then the explosion of colors lights up the night sky.

Both guys turn their head to the sky to see the fireworks explode for a few second in a triumph of green and red in the distance.

“It must be midnight.” Enjolras states taking his gaze away from the fireworks to look at Grantaire again.

“Well, happy new year, then.” Grantaire says with a smirk on his face. Okay, he still doesn’t believe that he will be with Enjolras at the end of the year, but he’s happy to start the year with him, so happy that he takes Enjolras’ face in his hands and kisses him with passion.

It would be very romantic, if it wasn’t for the fact that Grantaire’s skin is as cold as ice. “We should get inside so you can warm up.” Enjolras says pulling away reluctantly.

Grantaire decides that he doesn’t want to get back, not so quickly; after what they told each other he feels the need to stay a little longer there with Enjolras alone, to just be sure he didn’t screw everything already.

 Thank God the blanket is still where Enjolras left it and Grantaire simply take it and put it around his shoulder. It already feels better, he will survive a few minutes like that.  
He sits on the stone floor, his back against the railing, and motion to Enjolras to sit next to him.

Against his better judgment, Enjolras sits next to Grantaire and soon he feels the blanket around his shoulder and Grantaire’s body pressed against his. The fireworks keep exploding in the sky, as Grantaire kisses Enjolras again, and Enjolras forget completely that they should be somewhere else.

 

* * *

 

“Where are Enjolras and Grantaire, now?” Musichetta asks loudly checking the clock on the wall: it’s almost midnight, they should be all together and make a toast.

“Grantaire was in his depressed new year phase and Enjolras is with him.” Eponine explains, and if she can still do it, she’s not drunk enough.

“We can have a toast without them.” Courfeyrac decides and Combeferre agrees with him; sometimes those two need time alone.

“Better.” Eponine groans. “One less couple to see kissing at midnight.”

“What’s the problem with kissing?” Jehan asks gently. He can think about a thing or two – _but not now_ , not when Courfeyrac is looking at him guilty and Montparnasse has an arm around his waist.

Eponine rolls her eyes and fixes them upon Jehan. “Seriously? _Seriously_ , Jehan? The problem is that while you all have someone to kiss, I am on my own. Well, Courfeyrac and Combeferre are on the same boat as me, but it’s a mere consolation.”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre look at each other, and before Courfeyrac starts giggling like an idiot because he will definitely kiss someone (even if not at midnight or when everyone is around) he pats Eponine on the shoulder.

“We are all in this together, Eponine, don’t worry.”

“You didn’t fucking quote High School Musical to me, did you?”

Cosette gently puts a glass of champagne (as if half of them didn’t drink enough already) in Eponine’s hand and brushes a lock of her hair behind her ear. “No, he was quoting A very potter musical quoting High school musical.” She lowers her voice. “It’s different, he says.”

Eponine laughs at that, a little bit happy and a little bit drunk. Which is really good, if she’s honest.

“Hey, I heard you!” Courfeyrac pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“When they team up they are scary.” Marius says to his flatmate as he passes him a glass. “You should admit the defeat before they tear you into pieces.”

Courfeyrac looks at the two girls in front of him, both smirking and batting their eyelashes, then at Marius. “You are a wise man, my friend, not always, but sometimes you are.” He raises his glass to him. “I’ll follow your advice.”

With glasses full of champagne they toast when the clock strikes midnight marking the official start of a new year, at least in their time zone.

As Eponine predicted, after some hugs and glasses clicking together, there is a lot of kissing going around –helped a little by Courfeyrac’s decorative choices- and she just sighs and pour herself another full glass. She resigned herself of a night on Courfeyrac’s floor an hour ago, maybe if she’s lucky someone will have pity on her and Grantaire and bring them home, but she doesn’t care and she drinks.

She looks at Marius and Cosette, hugging and whispering something that get lost in the little empty space between their bodies and she sighs again. Once she really believed she could be in Cosette’s place, and sometimes she still dreams of having Marius.  
Well, not really, she dreams of having someone that loves her as Marius loves Cosette. Instead she has a surrogate of a big brother and a bunch of awesome guys that made her life less miserable.   
Probably all the love she’s going to get into her life.

A gentle tapping on her left shoulder forces her to turn around, she has just the time to recognize’s Musichetta face before the other girl just kisses her on the lips.

“What the fuck, ‘Chetta?” Eponine asks touching her lips with her fingers and stepping back.

“Hey, you are the one who complained about not being kissed at midnight.” Musichetta explains with an elegant shrug. “I wanted to fix that.”

Eponine is really close to blushing, not for the kiss, but for the caring in Musichetta’s action, but she’s a Thenardier and she doesn’t blush like some little girl. She’s a woman, she can face this with dignity.

“Thank you, Musichetta.”

Musichetta smiles and winks at her friend. “Anytime.”

Some of the guests missed the action, but not Joly and Bossuet who looks concerned about what just happens, and Musichetta kisses both deeply as a form of apology.

Courfeyrac too saw everything (because it was better than stare at Jehan and Montparnasse kissing ) and his first reaction, under Combeferre and Jehan’s curious gaze, is to run to his CD collection: he throws away some CDs until he finds the right one and put in to the cd player.

Katy Perry’s _I kissed a girl_ starts playing in the background, causing a big laugh from the two girls.

“Seriously, Courfeyrac?” Combeferre asks not able to hide the fact that, in part, he finds it amusing.

“Come on! How many times I will be able to blast this song after two girls kissed?” Courfeyrac asks like it’s the most logical answer in the whole universe.

 

* * *

 

Around 4 am the party is over rather quickly: the first to go are Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet, followed immediately by Bahorel and Feuilly, and soon also Jehan and Montparnasse leave, with a big relief for Courfeyrac.

If it was hard to watch Jehan and Montparnasse together when he was loving Jehan from a distance, after everything that happened between him and Jehan it’s even harder.  
Even if –he’s not sure- it’s seems like Jehan is more awkward around Montaparnasse, which would be perfectly normal considering what happened.  
Well, the good thing is that he stopped searching for a logic in this whole mess.

Marius and Cosette decide to move to the bedroom at the same time, wishing a good night to everyone left.

“Enjolras is putting Grantaire and Eponine to sleep on the couch, are you sure it’s okay they stay here?” Combeferre asks as he joins Courfeyrac in the kitchen that looks like a battlefield. Seriously, it seems like the party was for fourty people at least.

“Yes, don’t worry.” Courfeyrac replies. It’s not the first time, it will not be the last, and he knows how to deal with Eponine and Grantaire with a heavy hangover. “Come here you.” He adds gesturing to the other to move closer with his index finger.

Four hours after midnight they finally get to kiss each other and it was totally worth the wait, especially because they are both more relaxed and the conversation they had in the afternoon seems distant.

“Do you think Eponine will hate us because we have someone to kiss at midnight?” Combeferre asks seriously.

“Well it’s not midnight so I don’t think she will complain.” Courfeyrac replies with a small smile that soon become a small laugh.

Courfeyrac pulls Combeferre closer for another kiss and realizes how much he missed this during the night: being next to Combeferre and act like nothing is changed is just as hard as being in the same room with Jehan and act like nothing happened.

But at least with Combeferre he can hide in a room and, well, everything is damn easy from there.

 “I should get Enjolras and go back home now, it’s really late.”

“What? No, no, no.” Courfeyrac protests. “You are not going anywhere.”

“Don’t be childish.” Combeferre sighs. “It’s almost 5 am!”

“And who cares?” Courfeyrac blinks confused.

“Courfeyrac.” Combeferre says and that’s all it takes to convince the other to let him go.

When they enter the living room, however, they are greeted by a picture they didn’t expect: Grantaire is asleep on the couch as expected, but on top of him there is an also asleep Enjolras, while Eponine decided to curl up on the armchair, as the second most comfortable furniture in the apartment.

“Can you believe it? The same boy that stays up for days and days and it always takes me a lot to convince to go to bed, fell asleep in like five minutes.” Combeferre shakes his head, but he’s smiling because well, okay, it’s cute and adorable and Enjolras deserves to have some peace with his boyfriend.

Courfeyrac smirks and whispers casually to Combferre’s ear. “Well, seems you are spending the night here, after all.”

 

* * *

 

 _Oh fuck_ , is Bahorel’s first thought of the year as he wakes up in his bed with a headache.

He’s in his room, with the humidity spot on the ceiling that somehow means home, in his bed and he’s alone.

If he remembers correctly -and he does-  there was a certain ginger with him under the sheets. A very naked ginger that he hoped to see as naked in the morning.

Bahorel gets up and search for a pair of pants to put on, because it’s winter and going around naked doesn’t sound like a good idea not even to him.

The flat is a barricade of boxes, almost everything is packed with labels listing what’s in every box. Bahorel must admit it’s a sad sight, he likes his flat and he grew fond of it during the years, and it’s full of memories of parties and hangovers, but he’s learning to let it go, day by day.

Not that with a headache he cares about the boxes against the walls, of course, he only wants to find Feuilly and bring him back to bed and spend the day there.

Feuilly, who is so used to wake up early no matter how little he slept, is completely awake and functioning in the living room, sitting on the couch and watching the TV with a bowl of popcorn next to him.

“ Goodmorning” he says when Bahorel takes the bowl away and sit in its place.

“’Morning.” Bahorel replies leaning forward and pressing a firm kiss on the corner of Feuilly’s lips, catching a vague taste of salt. “When did you wake up?”

“A couple of hours ago.” Feuilly answers. “I tried to go back to sleep but you were snoring.”

Not that it’s something new, so Bahorel doesn’t even comment on that, instead he glances at the TV and laughs almost chocking himself in the act. “For fuck’s sake, Feuilly, _My Little Pony_? How old are you, five?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Feuilly murmurs rolling his eyes. Sometimes he likes watching cartoons, then what? It’s not like he could do it a lot when he was in foster care, or when he was moving from a family to another and sometimes with other brothers that made his life not really simple.

“Ah don’t be like that.” Bahorel wraps an arm around Feuilly’s shoulder and pulls him closer to kiss him on the head “I love you even if you secretly watch My Little Pony.”

“Like me.” Feuilly corrects automatically, partially glad that he can’t see Bahorel’ face and Bahorel can’t see him blushing “You _like_ me.”

“Nah, man, I know what I said.” Bahorel laughs again, keeping Feuilly in his arm.

The laughs reminds Feuilly too much of the one that Bahorel gave him when he first admitted he had a crush on him, so he push Bahorel away and looks at him frowining. “Do you think it’s the moment to say that?”

“I’m leaving in a week, so yes.” Bahorel replies and for once he’s serious, completely serious. The Bahorel that likes to bring chaos and fuck shit up for the sake of fucking shit up is gone leaving space to a Bahorel that is an actual an adult with emotions and thoughts. “I’d rather say it when it’s still too soon than feeling like saying it but not be able to because I am in another fucking country.”

There is bitterness in Bahorel’s voice and for the first time Feuilly understand that the he’s not the only one wishing that they could stay together.  
But none of them will ever speak that thought out loud; it’s easier to let things be and hope that whatever there is between them will survive the distance.

“Okay.” Feuilly says after a moment of silence, a hand cautiously resting on Bahorel’s upper arm in a clearly unkward gesture. “Thank you, I guess.”

“You are welcome.” Bahorel nods and then smirks.

“No.” Feuily says recognizing that smirk.

As always, Feuilly’s protestations are ignored and with a swift movement, Bahorel jerks the other back in his arms and then pins him to the couch with his body.

As always, Bahorel insistence earns him exactly what he wants, since Feuilly gives up immediately, without even trying to fight, and let Bahorel kisss him.

The first proper kiss of the year is rough, with a lot of teeth, and Bahorel doesn’t waste time and his hands slips immediately under Feuilly’s grey t-shirt.

“Do you have any plan for the day, or you want to watch cartoons all day?” Bahorel asks ignoring the upset sound that Feuilly makes when they lips part.

“No, actually.” Feuilly anwers suddenly very interested in the layer of stuble on Bahorel’s face “Do you have any?”

“I was thinking…” Bahorel starts leaving a trail of kisses from his partner’s jaw to his neck. “That we could go back in bed and get up only to have sex somewhere more funny.”

Feuilly chuckles. “As long as you don’t fuck me against a wall like yesterday night it’s okay for me.”

“I believed you like it.” Bahorel doesn’t even take the complain seriously. “I clearly remember you moaning in appreciation.”

“And I – “ Feuilly stops just to force Bahorel to look at him. “clearly remember opening the fron door of the flat and then you pushing me against the wall without cerimonies and put your hands in my pants.”

Bahorel frowns. “I thought that you liked having my hands in your pants.” He says almost angelically, but his right hand already slipped under Feuilly’s sweetpants.

Next time, Feuilly promises himself, he will not put on clothes that gives Bahorel easy access to his body. “That’s another story.” He says politely, feeling his body already reacting to the heat of Bahorel’s hand.

“So, what about my plan?”

“We are going to have a busy day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I regret my plot decisions, can you tell?  
> Stay tuned for more angst in the next chapters.
> 
> I want to say thank you to all the people who talked with me on tumblr about how the fandom (badly)treat Montparnasse, because they made me want to write this again.
> 
> And if you too want to talk with me on tumblr, I am always [drunkpylades!](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bahorel leaves, Courfeyrac tries to spend some time with Jehan, Montparnasse takes a decision, Jehan and Courfeyrac talk about Sailor Moon, Eponine has an unexpected visit, Courfeyrac has some time to think, Grantaire finds two girls in his house, Jehan and Montparnasse talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer, I don't have a beta and English is not my first language, so mistakes and errors are 100% mine.
> 
> This chapter deal with physical abuse, just lightly, but I wanted to warn you.
> 
> PS: I am sorry.

When they arrive at the airport they are technically still in time, but late on their schedule and why? Because of the red hickey on Feuilly's neck and Bahorel's stubbornness.

Bahorel _had_ to leave some more mark _"just to be sure you're not going to forget me tomorrow and find yourself in the bed of some cute girl"_ he said.

Like Feuilly could really do that.

Feuilly stops the car in the parking and turns off the engine, and for a long moment nobody speaks or move.

Here they are, it's happening for real.

After a glorious month of denying the inevitable, they are at the turning point, and moving would mean put a start to the events that will change the slight daily routine they had.

A routine that Feuilly loved with all his heart.

He will miss coming back home after a long day of work and find Bahorel cursing because dinner is burning; he will miss spending a couple of minutes every morning to free himself from Bahorel’s body; he will miss watching movies on Tuesday nights after one of Bahorel’s work out; he will miss all the stupid texts boring him during work.

He never had such domesticity, and it shouldn’t be so hard to get back to his usual life, and yet he knows it will take time. A lot of time.

Bahorel is someone who stops and thinks a lot; usually he just does what he wants and screw the consequences, but if he does this (no there is no 'if' he's going to do this) he knows how many things will change. It's scary. Even for him this time. He could end up without friends and without a job if something goes wrong.

"You said we were late." he says breaking the silence.

"Yes." Feuilly agrees.

"Then why are we still in the car?"

"I am not keeping you here, don't ask me why you are still here."

Silence again.

Feuilly keeps his hands around the steering wheel, because his brain has better thing to do than ordering to his arms to move. For example thinking about how he never liked goodbyes. Goodbyes are the worst and make him always sad. At least he has a chance to say goodbye, and he knows hos precious it is.

"Feuilly?"

"Mh?"

"Nothing."

Feuilly finally turns his attention to Bahorel and finds the other staring back at him; in a matter of second they remove their seat belts and they are kissing.

There is a desperation in the kiss that makes Feuilly's stomach knot and he knows that this will be their last kiss, that there will be nothing like this in the airport.

It reminds Feuilly of the way they made love just a couple of hours earlier: with urgency, but at the same time paying attention to all the details that usually they wouldn’t bother to notice at all.

In any other moment, he would have hated the way Bahorel’s hands are moving over his face and in his hair, but he is also aware of how much he will miss those hands in a day or two, so he doesn’t complain.

Bahorel closes his fist around Feuilly’s jacket and pulls him closer, not thinking about how uncomfortable that position must be, trying to get closer, but it’s seems like it’s never enough.

Not even when Feuilly moans softly before pulling away.

“Fuck, I am going to miss you.” Bahorel says in a rush, letting out the words that he refused to say until now. For a moment he seems ready to kiss Feuily again, but then he sits straight on the seats and sighs. For how much he would like to spend hours with Feuilly in the back of his car kissing, he has a plane to take.

“I don’t want you to go.” Feuilly admits; if they are going to have a minute of honesty, better use it.

“And I don’t want to leave you.” Bahorel replies shrugging. “But it’s a little bit too late to change my mind now.”

“I am not asking you to stay.” Feuilly points out. “I know how much this is important for you. Just don’t forget us too quickly.”

Bahorel ruffles Feuilly’s hair with a hand. “Impossible.”

Feuilly pouts and slap away the big hand on his head, then he holds it for a few seconds. “Come on, we are really late.”

There are some advantages in having all the muscles that Bahorel has, which include being able to bring all the bags; and Feuilly it’s not going to complain if he’s left with only one bag.

“The landlord will come next Monday to take the keys of the flat, don’t forget it.”

“Yes, Bahorel, I know.”

“Don’t forget to bring the old clothes to the church.”

“I’ll meet with Valjean on Sunday for them.”

“Remember to…”

“Bahorel.” Feuilly snaps in the middle of the airport. “I know what I have to do, trust me.”

Bahorel rolls his eyes. “Just checking.” He adjust a bag over his shoulder and look at Feuilly. “The most important thing: remember to log into skype from time to time.”

It’s Feuilly’s turn to roll his eyes. Does Bahorel really think he would forget to do the only thing that will let them see each other in the next months? It’s reassuring know that they will able to talk face to face sometimes. Maybe not for much (not with the internet costs for sure) but it’s better than nothing. “I will.”

“Good.” Bahorel smiles. “Keep an eye on Grantaire for me, he never liked drinking alone.”

“I am not his babysitter.” Feuilly frowns, despite knowing that he will do it anyway. And Bahorel knows it too, otherwise he wouldn’t ask in the first place.

He finished the things to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a big sad baby, so he stays silent and stares at Feuilly, not sure what to do.

Feuilly tilts his head “Aren’t you supposed to go?”

“So willing to send me away, now?”

That was just a joke, but Feuilly is not in a state where he can find it funny, instead he gets sadder and Bahorel would like to punch himself in the face because he’s like the worst friend in the word. Not to mention the worst boyfriend in the galaxy.

“Shit I am sorry, I am sorry.” He says quickly as he drops his bags and hugs Feuilly tightly. Probably it’s because a part of him is sure he saw tears in the corners of Feuilly’s eyes and he wants to stop people from seeing them. Probably it’s just because he simply likes to hug Feuilly.

Feuilly, anyway, doesn’t have tears in his eyes, he promised himself that he will not cry, but he doesn’t complain about the hug. For someone who looks so big and threatening, Bahorel gives the best hugs – of course nobody will ever say that to Jehan who thinks he's the best hugger of the amis.

“I’m going to call you after every single match, and every time I’m going to visit some place, and every time I am in a pub, and every time I am in the subway: you’ll get annoyed of me, I promise.”

It’s Bahorel, and Feuilly knows he’s able to do it for real. “God, no.” he groans, his face pressed against Bahorel’s jacket. “I don’t want to get fired because you have too much free time.”

Bahorel laughs and he resist the urge to kiss Feuilly’s head. “Okay, fine, I’ll behave.”

“Good boy.” Feuilly mocks and pulls away. “Now go — or you’ll miss the flight.”

Bahorel nods and asks himself how do you say goodbye without making it sound too sad or cliché or like in some kind of horrible movie? And then he has the perfect idea.

“Farewell, Snow.”

Feuilly rolls his eyes because only Bahorel would quote Game of Thrones in a moment like this (and no, he’s not thinking about the fact that Jon and Robb never saw each other again and that too many people never came back in his life), but at least it’s not a heartbreaking moment. When he will think about it again he will be able to tell how stupid Bahorel can be. “And to you, Stark.”

Feuilly is once again in Bahorel’s arms, but this time he hugs him back, clinging to him for a few seconds and then it’s over.

The last memory Feuilly has of Bahorel in french ground, is Bahorel smiling and mocking a salute to him. 

It’s a good memory.

 

* * *

 

Courfeyrac enters the shop before he can change his mind and run far, far away from there.

The familiar scent of flowers welcomes him, followed by the smile that Jehan gives to all his customers.

A smile that changes immediately as Jehan recognizes Courfeyrac. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Courfeyrac is actually as surprised as the shop owner about the fact that he's there, but he can hide it better behind a confident behaviour.

“What are you doing here?” Jehan manages to sound happy about the unexpected visit, even if it's clear that he didn't expect it. 

“Just wanted to say hello.” Courfeyrac shrugs moving to the desk. His eyes notices that not unusual absence of many customers, and he also notices that someone is missing.

“That's nice.” Jehan smiles, but that's it.

Usually Jehan is the first in line throwing himself into a hug at ever given occasion, but not this time, and Courfeyrac can understand.

He's not even sure he wants to be hugged by Jehan at the moment.

“So, how are you today?” Courfeyrac casually leans over the desk, his elbows well placed on the surface and his chin resting on his right hand. “I like the scarf.” he wished he never said that as soon as the words leave his mouth because _No, Courfeyrac, you are not flirting._

Jehan looks down at the green scarf around his neck and smiles a little, the special smile that it comes naturally when someone makes an appreciation. “Thank you.” at least he's not blushing. “I'm fine. You?”

“Wonderful, as always.” Courfeyrac replies with a grin. “So, where are you hiding 'Chetta?” he asks because it's the easiest conversation they can have. And because if he found the courage to go to the flower shop it was because he knew Musichetta was going to be there and he knew he wasn't going to be alone with Jehan.

“I am not hiding her.” Jehan replies. “She's doing a delivery and I told her she could go back home as soon as she finished with it.”

“I understand.” Courfeyrac says a little bit disappointed. Of course when he needs Musichetta she finds a way to stay out of trouble.

  
Jehan hates the silence that falls between them and keep them distant, he hates not to be able to talk naturallywith Courfeyrac as he used to, and he hates being the cause of it.  
He’s really trying to ignore Courfeyrac’s feelings, or at least pretend that they don’t change anything, but he can’t because he looks at Courfeyrac and he remembers that those feelings exists. He looks at Courfeyrac and he can’t still quite believe that he loves him.  
He can’t still quite believe he didn’t sort out his own feelings yet.

  
“Do you have any news about Bahorel?” Jehan asks suddenly just to stop the silence that is making his ears ring. “I tried to call Feuilly, but he's avoiding the subject.”

“No.” Courfeyrac shakes his head, a lock of brown hair falling over his forehead forcing him to put it back into place with a hand. “Knowing him he’s currently sleeping in his new bed after his first london bar brawl.” he adds with a smirk.

“I don’t think he would get into in a fight so soon…” Jehan frowns.

  
“Jehan, _it’s Bahorel_ , getting into fights is his hobby and life goal.” Courfeyrac shrugs. After years of friendship it’s not even a bad thing to say, Bahorel is like that, always searching for a good occasion to throw some punches around just to have some fight. 

He’s going to miss receiving calls at four a.m. from a laughing Bahorel telling him what the hell just happened.

  
“That’s true.” Jehan has to admit. Bahorel is the only person who actually convinced him to take part in a bar fight a few years ago, and he remembers exactly how funny it has been. And only because Bahorel was acting like a proud mama.  
It has been a week and he already miss him. What will happen will it be a month? Or when Bahorel will not be there for his birthday?

  
“We should change subject.” Courfeyrac mutters. “I don’t like getting sad.”

  
“I agree.” Jehan nods, relieved that at least Courfeyrac is feeling just like him.

“You know what?” Courfeyrac stands straight with that mischievous look on his face. “The shop is desert and it’s almost closing time. Let’s go eat something together.”

Courfeyrac could regret the suggestion as soon as it left his mouth, but when Jehan makes that little smile and that little nod, he’s just happy he asked.

For a moment it seems that all the embarrassment between them is gone and they are back to being just best friends.  


“Okay.” Jehan says _and he can’t stop smiling_. It’s not good, definitely not good. But then he remembers that he smiles all the time and he shouldn’t be worried by his inability to keep a serious face. “Let’s wait another ten minutes, then I’m closing.”

“Sounds good do me.” Courfeyrac agrees -after all business is business- happy like a child on Christmas.

 

* * *

 

Montparnasse leans on the reception desk as he tries to call Jehan for the fourth time in five minutes; and as the three times before, Jehan doesn't pick up and when the answering machine kicks in, he decided that he will not make a fool of himself leaving an awkward message.

Claquesous, who has nothing better to do that smirking at the hopeless expression on Montparnasse's face, shakes his head in the way that means he's finding it very funny. "Your little bird is still ignoring you?"

"None of your business." Montparnasse comments putting the phone in the pocket of his jacket. He knows that he's being obvious, and that probably Claquesous will not forget it for a _very_ long time, but at the same time forgetting a lunch date it's not something Jehan does often.

A part of him is annoyed, especially because it is just lunch it shouldn't mean too much to him, and another part of him is worried by Jehan's strange behaviour.

"Ah, look at you." Claquesous starts ignoring the deadly look coming from the other. "All in distress because your cute boyfriend forgot about you."

"Don't you have something better to do than annoy me?" Montparnasse asks frowning.

Suddenly, Claquesous is serious, his face dark and dangerous as always. “You are going soft, Montparnasse. You are thinking more about him than about what we are supposed to do.”

“I know what we are supposed to do.” Montparnasse replies harshly. He didn’t miss the brilliant escaping plan that Gueulemer made up to free Babet. Honestly, if someone is going soft is Gueulemer with all his attentions for Babet.

“Listen to me: I don’t care how great of a fuck your little bird is, we need you focused on the job, we don’t need your love-sick sighs to call the guard.” Claquesous steps closer to the younger boy. “If we fail because your mind is between your –well _his_ \- legs, I’ll let Gueulemer do to you all the things he promised he will do, one day or the other.”

Montparnasse know the list, and it’s not a pretty one; it includes too many broken bones in his opinion. He should be scared –after all he’s all flesh and bones and Gueulemer is a real life Hercules-, but instead he’s annoyed by all the threats.

“No, you listen to me, Claquesous.” He starts politely, but then he’s forcing the other to bend over the reception desk, and he’s bending his arm on his back with enough pressure to hurt. “Another single word about Jehan and I’ll make sure that Gueulemer finds your face next time he needs someone to punch because he's too frustrated.”

Despite the pressure to his arm and the uncomfortable position (actually it’s kinda hot to be bent like that and have Montparnasse’s breath tickling his neck, but it’s not the moment to think about _that_ ) Claquesous laughs. “See? You are going soft. I was just giving you a friendly advice.”

Whatever reply Montparnasse had –and it was going to be on the line of _fuck yourself_ \- it doesn’t have a chance to be said because Azelma enters the room.

“ _Guys!_ not here! What if customers see you?”

In a matter of second, Montparnasse frees Claquesous who stands up straight totally unaffected. “Sorry, doll.” He says.

“For fuck’s sake, what happened to your face, Azelma?” asks Montparnasse when he’s able to see the girl’s face; a purple bruise is blossoming on the left side of her face.

“Nothing.” Azelma answers in the way of those who doesn’t want to talk about a problem that is obvious.

Claquesous, who is not really interested, accept the girl’s answer without questioning further.

“Do you think I am an idiot?” Montparnasse asks frowning. He hopes nobody wants to answer that at the moment. “It was your father?”

Azelma flinches and it’s a louder answer than her spoken “Doesn’t matter.”

There is no real reason why Montparnasse should care about it, it’s none of his business what his boss does to his daughter, but there is always that part of him that is really human and almost sympathetic. It’s just that Azelma is the closest thing he has to a sister and the girl is nowhere strong enough to endure any kind of abuse.

“You are going to Eponine’s. Now.” he announces without thinking.

“Montparnasse. Careful, it’s not your decision to take.” Claquesous warns him.

“We don’t know where Eponine lives.” Azelma reminds to the boy. “And I have to work.”

“I’ll ask Grantaire.” Montparnasse is sure that he can convince him to give him the address. “And I’ll take your shift, I don’t have anything better to do since my date is cancelled.”

Azelma stares at Montparnasse as he calls Grantaire, and she jumps a little when Claquesous’ hand gently pulls her hair away from her face. “Bruises don’t suit dolls.”

“Stop being creepy, Claquesous.” Azelma says in a whisper that takes away all the meaning of her words. 

“I am not creepy.”

“Yes you are.” Montparnasse says once he has the address. “It’s your best trait, to be honest.” He gives to Azelma a paper with the address on. “Do you know how to get there?”

Azelma reads the address and put the paper in the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll find the place, don’t worry.”

“Then go, before your father finds out you are gone.” Montparnasse orders.

Once Azelma is out of the building, Claquesous snorts. “You are really going soft, lord have mercy.”

 

* * *

 

“No, I refuse.” Jehan says closing tighter the scarf around his neck. “I am not going to compare our friends to Sailor Moon characters.”

It’s a cold and cloudy day, but the people of Paris don’t seem to care too much, since they moving around the streets, a lot of them enjoying an extra day or two of holidays after the start of the new year.

“Why not!” Courfeyrac exclaims. “It’s funny. I’ll start: Combeferre is Ami.”

Jehan shakes his head. “I am not doing this, Courf.”

“I think Bahorel would be Makoto, for all the martial arts stuff.” Courfeyrac goes on without caring. He knows Jehan will eventually give in if he insist. “Do you think Enjolras would be Usagi or Rei?”

“He woul…no, no, no. I am not answering, not that, I like to stay alive.” Jehan says, if Enjolras finds out they compared him to a manga he will be kill them or something.

“Okay, let’s try an easier one, who I would be?”

“You?” Jehan actually thinks about it, because it’s Courfeyrac and he knows him almost as good as Enjolras and Combeferre do.

If he thinks about the traits of his personality, the first thing that comes to his mind is the energy that Courfeyrac brings with him; an energy that can completely change the mood in a room. Then there is Courfeyrac’s smile, able to make anyone smile back at him. His words, his behaviour, his friendly attitude. 

All the things that made Jehan want to be friend with someone so open and positive to the world.

And all the things that don’t make him regret what happened at Christmas as he should do. 

“Jehan?” Courfeyrac calls quietly, slightly worried by the thoughtful look on his friend’s face.

“Mh?” Jehan blinks and force himself to stop thinking about their kiss. “Ah, right. I think you would be Minako.” he says finally.

“Sailor Venus?” Courfeyrac arches an eyebrow. “Ah yes of course: Venus is the planet of love and every one knows I am the best lover on the planet” he winks before he can realize who is talking with. 

“I can’t possibly know about that.” Jehan’s cheeks become a discrete shade of pink. “And I said it because Minako is cheerful, romantic, she likes pop culture and she’s very clever. Yu two are very much alike, now that I think about it.”

Courfeyrac nods, glad that is little flirt didn’t ruin the good mood of the day. “I can live with being like Sailor Venus, I guess.”

“Of course you can.” Jehan comments.. “She has her own story before all the other sailors. An entire spin-off.” 

“And I always dreamed of being the main character of a sit com.” Courfeyrac agrees and that makes Jehan laugh.

Courfeyrac smiles, letting Jehan’s laugh making him happy. He forgot the soothing effect it has on everyone and the way it makes him feel warmer inside, like the sun is shining only over him and for him. And the way that the joy makes Jehan’s eyes shine and wrinkle his nose. And the way that he touches his hair when he does that.

Jehan notices Courfeyrac’s smile at him and frowns, even if his lips are still arched in a pretty smile. “What?”

“I love you.” the words slips from Courfeyrac’s mouth with simplicity, carelessly, as the most natural thing in the world. 

Three words and Jehan’s smile -the one that never really faded from his face since they left the shop- is gone. “Don’t say that.” he orders gently, a little hint of panic in his eyes. “ _Please_ , don’t.”

Suddenly, Courfeyrac is back to reality and he really need someone to punch him in the face right now, because he’s an idiot. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, sorry.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Jehan mumbles looking at his feet. The words had the same effect they had when he first heard them, and it hates it, _he hates it_. He really does. 

And he hates Courfeyrac because he can say it like he’s allowed to when obviously he’s not.

“I am an idiot, forgive me.” Courfeyrac begs. “I don’t have a filter between my mind and my words and I am pretty sure that this is how I’ll get killed some day, but I swear I didn’t…” didn’t what? Mean it? No, because he really meant it. “Look I am sorry and let’s pretend I didn’t say it.” 

Good, he ruined the day and it was going actually pretty well! 

And probably Combeferre will give him one of his speech. Or he will not talk to him for this.

Jehan simply nods because he can’t find something to say. What do you say in a situation like this? Especially, what do you say when you don’t know how _you_ feel?

When his phone buzzes in his pocket, Jehan is more happy than to take it out and answer the call.

Well, he’s happy until he reads the name on the display and his brain starts to work and reminds him that he was supposed to be with Montparnasse.  
Instead, he’s with Courfeyrac.

No, he doesn’t like the irony.

“‘Parnasse.” he says quickly, the phone pushed against his ear as he moves further from Courfeyrac. “I am sorry, I totally forgot about lunch.”

“That much was obvious.” Montparnasse sounds annoyed and Jehan can’t blame him. “What happened?”

“I forgot.” Jehan says again because it’s the truth. “Can I apologize with dinner? I’ll cook.”

The other line of the line is silent for a few seconds. “I guess I can be free for dinner.” Montparnasse decides and Jehan sighs with relief.

“I am really really really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Montparnasse says without really meaning it. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” Jehan sighs and press the end call button understanding Montparnasse decision to make a quick call instead of risking to start arguing over the phone.

Wonderful, the last thing he needs right now is to deal with a jealous Montparnasse -because of course Jehan will not be able to lie. He could call Musichetta and ask her to cover him, sure, but he knows he’s a bad liar and he would ruin everything.

“What happened?”

Jehan sighs and turns back to Courfeyrac who is looking at him with a worried face.

“I had a date with Montparnasse, I forgot and you can guess he’s not really happy about it.” his smile is fake and of circumstance.

“It’s one date, it can happen.” Courfeyrac shrugs. “I mean it’s not like you did it on purpose or anything, it can happen.” not even for a second he doubts that Jehan simply forgot. After all, Jehan has no reason to miss a date with Montparnasse.

For how much Courfeyrac still hopes in his heart, he’s not a fool, they talked and Jehan made everything clear.

 _It shouldn’t happen_ , Jehan thinks. Not after eight months of relationship, and not with Courfeyrac. Everyone but Courfeyrac.

“Thank you for today.” Jehan says and it’s not his fault if he doesn’t sound that honest. “I should really go back to the shop now.”

“Yeah sure.” Courfeyrac understand perfectly what the other means between the line. “Uhm, say hi to Musichetta for me.”

“As always.” Jehan nods.

 

* * *

 

Eponine combs her hair in a messy bun in front of the mirror in the bathroom humming to herself some song that she heard the previous day at the Musain and is stuck in her hand.

With Grantaire at work, she's the Queen of the flat and she wants to take advantage of the situation, and if it means she can stay in the bathroom and play with her hair for two hours, she'll do it.

Her hair are half done when someone knocks at the door, making Eponine frown. Who can this be? She's pretty sure that all the people she knows are doing something at the moment, and they wouldn't come to _her_ in any case.

Still, expecting the expectable didn't prepare her to the person behind the door.

For a moment Eponine feels her body reacting by instinct, trying to close the door, but she stops gripping the door tighter and taking a deep breath.

"Hi." that's all Azelma says before looking down at her own feet.

It takes Eponine a couple of seconds to see the bruise on her sister's face and then there is no space for doubts and old grudges. "Come inside." she orders taking her sister's arm and pulling her inside. She closes the door kicking it with her left foot and the sharp and loud noise seems to wake up both girls.

"Who did it?" Eponine asks, her hands on Azelma's face, tilting her head in a way that she can see the bruise. Azelma flinches, and she feels her bottom lip tremble as she answer.

"Dad." 

Exactly the answer that the older expected. 

"How did you find me?"

Azelma takes a step back and she hesitates to answer. She can't tell if Eponine is angry or not, she can't tell if she's just waiting to kick her out, or shout at her.

She wouldn't blame the other, of course, she's not supposed to know where she lives. When Eponine left, it was clear that she didn't want to see anyone from her family, she simply disappeared. Almost as she never existed.

"Montparnasse." she finally answers. "It was his idea; he saw the bruise and told me to come to you and he gave me the address."

"Since when Montparnasse is a pious man?" Eponine asks too harshly, but she can't quite believe that Montparnasse acted on some kind of good intention. Montparnasse doesn't have good intentions.

"Is not as half as bad as you think he is." Azelma murmurs shyly. She carefully sits down on the couch, trying to tell her body and mind that it's okay, she's safe; even if for an hour or so.

"I know exactly how bad he is. He's made of the same stuff of our father and his gang. The only difference is that he has a pretty face." Eponine shrugs. "Don't let him fool you like he did with me."

Azelma shakes her head, not agreeing with a word that her sister is saying: Eponine's point of view is flawed, for obvious and right reasons, and she can't - _won't_ \- see that Montparnasse is nothing like his friends. "He helped me, you can't stop me from being thankful."

"No." Eponine agrees. She gives her sister a quick look. "Why did he hit you?"

Azelma presses her lips in a thin line and looks at the her hands, her short fingernails nervously digging into the flesh of her palm. "He said..." she tries to recall the memory with caution "That I was a good for nothing, that I was the most useless daughter in the world: not clever enough to help him, and not pretty enough to make customers happy." and then he hit her, not with ferocity or anger, but with a kind of annoyance that hurt her more than the words.

Eponine frowns a little, her eyes still on her little sister. She looks even smaller that she remembered her, skinnier for sure, a trace of a beauty never blossomed on her face, big eyes hunted by a miserable life. She looked like her, Eponine decided, not in the physical appearance, but in the way life had shaped them.

"Since you left..." Azelma goes on. "Things have been harder and harder everyday; he's not happy and he's getting older and he knows that his gang is more respected than him. It's a mess, 'Ponine."

"I told you to come with me, when I left." Eponine reminds. She can still picture Azelma sitting on her bed in the room they shared at home, eyes open in disbelief and fear, telling her that family is not something that you left behind. And this as Eponine threw all she could in her bags, in order to get ready to leave as soon as possible. "I told you what kind of monster he was."

"You expected me to believe you when my own experience told me that dad wasn't that bad." Azelma whispers ashamed. "I was young, Eponine I didn't know what I know now."

It's true, she was young, and when she left Eponine wasn't older than Azelma right now, she wanted to keep her sister safe and she never realized that for Azelma there was no reason to leave their house. "You grew up, and you are doing what I did when I grew up."

There is kindness in Eponine's voice now, and Azelma stares surprised as her sister sits next to her. "What about Gavroche? He's safe?"

"Of course he is." Azelma replies with a little smile. "Free and independent, he doesn't care about what happens at home." which mean that she has been the one stuck there while everything went to hell. "You two have always been fine. It was me the weak fool who never saw how things really are."

Eponine can't say it's not true; Azelma has always been more like a puppet in their father's hands, always been the most naive of them. "Things have changed and now you know."

"Will you help me?" Azelma sounds scared to ask such thing. Her eyes are big and full of a fragile hope that could be shattered immediately. "I don't want to go back, and I need a place to stay. I have some money, but I'll need to find a new job and it'll take time and..."

"Azelma." Eponine wraps her arms around her sister. "You can stay here, don't worry. I'm not leaving you alone in this."

Azelma let out a sigh of relief and hugs back Eponine. "Thanks." she says. "Do you think Grantaire would mind?"

"No, he's a sweetheart when it comes to damsel in distress." Eponine reassures the other girl with a smile

"'Ponine..." Azelma whispers closing a fist around her sister's sleeve. "It will be okay, right?"

"Of course it will!" Eponine says quickly, her embrace becomes tighter for a moment, then she slowly pulls off. "No matter what, you'll always be a Thenardier and people says a lot of things about us, some nice and some not, but one thing will always be true: we know our ways around."

That seems to reassure Azelma, if just a little bit.

 

* * *

 

His legs bring him to Combeferre and Enjolras' flat before he can actually where he is. Damn their betrayal and everything else. 

He's even lucky enough to find someone getting out of the building, and since at this point he has been there so many times that everyone knows his face, he can sneak inside without having to buzz Combeferre. 

As he takes the stairs to the right floor, he really hopes that he will not walk in Enjolras and Grantaire doing anything, because that would be totally awkward and he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life remembering something like that. 

The fourth floor looks exactly all like the others, two flats facing each other with the same dark wooden door. The walls used to be whiter than this, but now they look somehow grey and the stairs show their age with some stain that nobody never explained. 

Combeferre's flat is the one next to the stairs that take to the fifth floor, and Courfeyrac stops in front of it before his finger can ring the doorbell. 

_What the hell are you doing?_ he asks himself having finally a moment of clarity in the day.

He can't show up at Combeferre's place to tell him that he screwed everything again with Jehan. For how much Combeferre is understanding, he doesn't deserve this. 

There is a soft music coming from the inside of the flat; the walls are thinner than what they look, and the notes are somehow distant.

Courfeyrac can't tell exactly what it is, but he can guess it's classic music. Combeferre loves classic music, he remembers suddenly, it helps him to study when he's next to an exam or it's a day when he can't focus very much on what he's doing. 

Courfeyrac steps back from the door and sits on the stairs next to the flat, his body pressed against the rails. 

The stairs are cold, and the steel of the railing is not warmer, but he couldn't care less. 

There is something relaxing about the muffled sound coming from the walls. 

He smiles, imagining Combeferre with his nose in the books, his glasses falling down again and again exasperating him, a lot of books around him with things that Courfeyrac never cared about but know really wished he knew, as he hums to the music like any other person would hums to pop music. 

Of course, he can't really destroy the moment with his problems, it would be selfish. And Combeferre has been so selfless, always listening without judging him, that he can't ask him to listen again and again knowing that it will hurt him. 

He wished he was inside, though, because he could force Combeferre to stand up from his chair and forget about his books, and they would dance barely following the music, and Combeferre would try to get free for the first minute or two, but then he would give in and smile, and then they would kiss and laugh because they keep stepping on each other's feet.

And Combeferre would be happy, and he would say thank you to him for the funny break, and Courfeyrac would feel like the most lucky person on the planet. 

He could do all of that, all it would takes is to knock on the door and that could happen, but what kind of person would say that he loves someone and then go and dance with someone else? 

Courfeyrac suddenly realizes that he's sad -no, not sad, more like melancholic, because he's an idiot and he's only giving problems to the two most important person in his life at the moment. 

Someone _must_ punch him in the face, the sooner the better. Then he remembers that Montparnasse _actually_ did it and for a moment he feels sympathy for the boy with the dark hair and the handsome face. 

If Jehan is remotely feeling like this, he should really go and tell him to not worry about him. It would be so easy: he would tell Jehan that he's with Combeferre and Jehan would stay with Montparnasse as nothing ever happened, and Combeferre would be happy too because they would get to stay together instead of this...whatever there is between them. 

But it would mean that he would have to tell Jehan that he's having an affair with Combeferre and the idea scares him. What will Jehan think of him if he tells him that he's seeing someone when he keeps declaring his love for him? 

If Jehan doesn't love him, okay fine, it happens to a lot of people in all the world, but he can't lose Jehan's respect and friendship because he think he was making fun of him, or worse, he thinks he's using Combeferre. 

He would die, period. 

Fear is forcing him to immobility, and while he does nothing ( _or too much_ , some would say) Jehan and Combeferre pay for it. 

In all his years as a modern Don Juan, nobody ever told him that love would eventually struck him to the bone and force him to take decisions without him knowing how to take them. He expected life to be always simple, filled with one night stands, no serious bounds, and a lot of friends and their fights for a better future. 

Nobody ever told him that he would feel so fragile, young, and naive. 

He stands up abruptly and quickly goes downstairs, motivated to put an end at this. He'll find a way, he'll do something - _anything_ \- and he will fix the situation. He doesn't know how, but somehow he will be able to do it, and soon this mess would be only a distant, painless memory.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire enters the flat with a dramatic sigh as he, with an equally dramatic gesture, takes his coat off.

“I swear, the next person that will complain about an order and will be a asshole to me will be punched in the face.” he announces.

Eponine is reading on the couch, legs crossed, hair still in her half made bun, and she gives to her friend a sympathetic look. “Not if you want to keep the job.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “I know, but I am allowed to complain at home, right?” he takes off the red woollen hat.

“It’s a just waste of time. People will always be assholes with poor people who works their ass off to pay the bills.” Eponine shrugs and then she stands up. 

Grantaire frowns, she knows how Eponine walks and Eponine doesn’t walk with her back straight, her chin up and with rhythmic steps; she walks definitely more carelessly. “What happened? What did you do this time?”

“I am offended by your assumption I did something, R.” Eponine punches Grantaire’s shoulder. “But yeah something happened…”

A door from the inside the flat opens and Eponine doesn’t have the time to explains, because Azelma comes out of the bathroom and Grantaire stares at her.

“Hello, Azelma.”

“Hi.” the girl replies shyly.

Grantaire notices that she must have just come out of the shower, her hair are still partially wet and she has a white towel around her shoulders. She wears a pair of green sweatpants that somehow ended up in Eponine’s closet but actually belonged to him, and a t-shirt that belongs to Eponine with “ _She wants the D(estruction of patriarchy)_ ” printed on the front.

He also notices the bruise, but he knows how the Thenardiers girls reacts when someone points the obvious.

And since he’s not a fool, he can imagine what happened and why exactly Azelma is in their house wearing clothes that belongs to them as she owns the place.

“Azelma is going to stay with us for a while.” Eponine says what Grantaire already deduced.

“Not very much.” Azelma adds immediately, worried. “And only if you are okay with it, of course.”

Grantaire let himself fall on the couch and stares at the two girls. He can only guess that it’s the dream of any straight dude to find himself in such a scenario, or at least the start of too many pornos. Of course, he doesn't care.

“Do you realize,” he starts. “That I _do_ have a sister, with ink curly hair like mine, but who is definitely more attractive than me- thank god- and I adore?”

“Yes, we do.” Eponine nods. “And we decided that we don’t care.”

Grantaire sighs. “Am I the keeper of the Thenardiers sisters, now?”

“Grantaire if you don’t want…” Azelma bites her bottom lip. “It’s okay, really, I know this is your house too, and…”

“This is not a house, this is a refuge for people who are fucked up.” Grantaire corrects raising an index in the air. “Welcome aboard, Azelma Thenardier. Just stay out of my room and we’ll be fine.”

Azelma shares a smile with her sister, and then she throws herself on the couch, in Grantaire’s arms. “Thank you!”

The problem is that Grantaire has really a soft spot for cripples, bastards, and broken things. 

He can still fool himself that even if there is no hope for him, he can do good for the others.

 

* * *

 

 

Jehan feels Montparnasse's arms around his waist, his chest pressed against his back and his lips on his neck, and it's distracting, especially because Jehan is supposed to be cleaning the dishes.

“I guess I am forgiven for missing lunch?”

"Only if you tell me who who you were with" Montparnasse says casually as if the subject didn't bothered him all day long. 

Jehan slowly turns his head and looks at the other, mentally reminding himself that he did nothing wrong, that Courfeyrac is right and anyone could forget about a launch date planned days earlier. It's not that bad. These things happen. "Courfeyrac." 

Montparnasse chuckles. "Of course it was Courfeyrac.” _Who else?_ The simplest and most logical answer in the universe. The wave of jealousy he feels tastes bitter in his mouth and it made his voice somehow distant. 

"Don't start." Jehan warns frowning. 

"Start what?" Montparnasse ask arching an eyebrow. 

“One of your jealous rants about Courfeyrac.” Jehan says. He’s not sure he can deal with one of them right now.

"Well, sorry if I don't like the idea that my boyfriend forgot about a date with me to go out with his best friend who everybody knows loves him." Montparnasse mutters letting the other go. He doesn't know why he did that, his arms feel empty, but it's not a conversation they can have while hugging. 

"He's my best friend, I am sure I am allowed to go out with him." Jehan says simply. He could remind to the other that he doesn’t like jealousy or being controlled, but that would lead to an argument and if he can avoid that, it’s better for everyone.

"Yes, yes, you are." Montparnasse agrees quickly; he doesn't want to act like an over-protective, suffocating and over-jealous boyfriend. Except he's feeling just like one. 

"Then what's the matter?" Jehan asks gently, he dries his hands absently, his gentle gaze on the other.

“Why don’t you tell _me_ what’s the matter?” Montparnasse retorts. “Do you think I am blind or what?” it comes out more cruel than estimated and he stops for a moment. “Do you think that I didn’t notice that your behaviour changed since Courfeyrac told you about his feelings?”

Jehan holds his breath and he can feel the changing in the air; he knows that even if would avoid a discussion there is no turning back.

He moves closer to the other, but keeps his mouth shut, otherwise he fears his heart will jump out of it if it keeps beating this faster with anxiety.

“I mean, it was _predictable_.” Montparnasse admits shrugging. He walks into the living room ,taking off his pack of cigarettes, but he changes his mind immediately and he put it back into his pocket. “I didn’t expect you to be able to ignore it -someone else may have been, but _you_? No way.” reason number one why he wish he never punched Courfeyrac. That stupid punch changed everything. He doesn’t regret what he did, he regret the _consequences_.

Jehan rests against the doorframe of the kitchen, arm crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the other. He says nothing because everything the other is saying is right.

“I understood your reaction to the news, I understood your fear of talking with him, I understood how it hurt you to speak with him about his feels…” Montparnasse lists, and at every word he grows less patience. “I saw how it broke your heart.”

There is a kind of defeat on Montparnasse’s face and Jehan can’t look at it, because Montparnasse doesn’t look defeated, not him, never. Something is going to happen, he can sense it, and they are moving towards it with small steps, cautiously, but they will not stop.

“And I saw you becoming more distant day by day” Montparnasse puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and tries to shrug the words off with a forced nonchalance. “Well, not every day. Some day you were as close as before, but other days you were somewhere else.”

Jehan would like to ask him to not use so many words and to get to the point, because he’s not sure he can handle the pressure for much longer.

“You started sleeping as far as you could from me, and then you showed so much concern about Courfeyrac’s feelings to the point where you denied me a kiss in order to not hurt him.”

“Is this about _that_?” Jehan finds himself asking frowning. “Really? It was _one_ kiss, ‘Parnasse.”

Montparnasse walks closer to Jehan. “ _Exactly_. Then why it was such a big deal? Why you had to be rude about something so meaningless?”

“I wasn’t _rude_ …” Jehan protests.

“Yes, you were, which means something was bothering you.” Montparnasse shakes his head. “Something _is_ bothering you.”

Jehan looks away because, once again, Montparnasse is right and he doesn’t know what to say.

“And for the big finale…” Montparnasse opens his arms. “You, who never forgot about a date in eight months, you ignored a date _to go out with Courfeyrac_.”

“I didn’t deliberately ignore our date to go out with him!” Jehan exclaims, he has to close his fists around his sweater to resist at the urge of shove the other. “I _forgot_ about it, I told you!”

“Even if you simply _forgot_ about it.” Montparnasse says with acquiescence. “You should agree with me that it’s a clear sign that something is not right.”

Jehan sighs and despite wanting to deny it and run away, he nods.

“Thank you.” Montparnasse makes a little bow with his head, but he’s clearly not happy and not even his little scene can hide it. “So, should I say what I think it’s the matter?”

“Do I have to answer that?” Jehan asks rhetorically.

“Trust me, you are not the only one who doesn’t want to talk about this.”

Jehan is almost going to tell him that he doesn’t have to, that nobody is forcing them to talk about things they don’t want to talk about, then he finds that his tongue is too heavy to actually speak any word.

Montparnasse takes a deep breath and gather all the courage he has to ask the question that has been bothering him for too long. “Do you like Courfeyrac, Jehan?”

The question is so direct that takes Jehan by surprise for a second. He doesn’t have an answer, not a precise one, and he shrugs. “I don’t know.” he answers and it sounds lame, very lame. “I _honestly_ don’t know, I...asked myself a couple of times, but I don’t know for sure. It’s...hard to explain.”

Montparnasse nods, as he expected exactly that answer. Probably he should be glad it’s not a yes, but it hurts just the same, because it means that the feelings Jehan has for him are not strong enough to not make him doubt his feelings for Courfeyrac.

“If you don’t know…” he swallows nervously because every part of him is telling him to shut the fuck up before he screws everything. “Maybe we should take some time apart so you can clear your mind on the subject.”

His head spins for a moment as Jehan understand the meaning of Montparnasse’s words. He’s not able to say a single word -not even a simple _no_ \- because he never thought they would come to this. And Montparnasse doesn’t know the worst part of it, yet.

“If you stay with me…” Montparnasse looks away, almost shyly, as Jehan’s sight hurts him now. “...you’ll never know if you like him, because you will feel obligated to stay with me. I want you to be free to…” he makes a grimace. “experiment, to see if you like him. Go out with him, kiss him, understand what you feel for him, but don’t ask me to stay here while it happens, Jehan.”

It’s obvious that Montparnasse is humiliating himself saying this, Jehan knows how much it’s hurting his pride to stay there and tell him to go to Courfeyrac, to go to the person he hates the most because both of them love him.

Suddenly, he remembers Courfeyrac looking at him and saying _‘I love you’_ , he remembers thinking how right it felt and getting scared; and all he can think is that what Montparnasse is saying is the same thing, behind the lines, and that is sounds desperate.

And he’s doing nothing to earn the love of two person, he’s only hurting them.

He can hear Montparnasse asking him to tell something and what he says is the truth.

“I already tried, Montparnasse. It didn’t work.” Jehan admits. “We kissed but it didn’t help me to understand, it actually only made everything worse.”

Finally Montparnasse looks up at him and Jehan stop breathing because he didn’t think someone could look so hurt and defeated. The pain is vivid in Montparnasse’s eyes, visible as if there was a concrete wound on his body; if Jehan more than once joked that Montparnasse had the spring in his eyes, now there is nothing but the melancholy of autumn.

Montparnasse is speechless for a few moments, trying to recompose himself after the news. “See? I am right, we need some time apart.”

“I am sorry…” Jehan says asking himself why he didn’t say it immediately.

“You are not.” Montparnasse shakes his head. “You love, and when you love you are not sorry.”

“I didn’t say I love Courfeyrac. I said I don’t know.” Jehan corrects, but everything he says seems just stupid and childish.

“And I said you need to find out.” Montparnasse retorts. “Really Jehan, I don’t want to force you to stay with me just because we were together when you found his feelings. If you like him, you have the right to stay with him.” 

Jehan stares as Montparnasse moves closer and he remembers how it ended between him and Eponine and suddenly he’s scared and he feels in trap.

“I want you to be happy.” Montparnasse says, he gently takes Jehan’s face in his hands. “And if I am not the one making you happy, I’ll accept it. Eventually. One day.”

Slowly Jehan relaxes, it doesn’t seems like Montparnasse is threatening him or ready to hit him. “I didn’t want to make a mess, I didn’t want to hurt you…” he closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth of Montparnasse’s hands.

“Stop.” Montparnasse sighs and that action makes Jehan looks at him again “Stop caring about me, or Courfeyrac, or anyone else. Think about _yourself_ , think about what _you_ want, what _you_ feel. Stop trying to make everyone happy and hurt yourself trying. We all love you Jehan and we want to see you happy, because when you are happy the world doesn’t suck that much.”

Jehan is not sure if he’s laughing or sobbing, or both, but then Montparnasse kisses him gently on the lips and it breaks his heart because he’s a quiet _goodbye_.

“I should go now.” Montparnasse says and no, he’s not feeling tears in his eyes, _no_. 

“Does it matter anything that I don’t want you to go?” Jehan tries gingerly.

“Yes, but I can’t stay.” _because if I stay I’ll tell you that I don’t care you kissed him and that I want to stay with you, but that would be too selfish when you don’t know if you want to stay with me._

Jehan nods and while he watches Montparnasse go, he tells himself that he’s only paying the consequences of his poor choices and that he can’t blame nobody else but himself.

_Your love is only hurting them, your heart is divided and none of them is having the whole love they deserve._

When Jehan realizes what happened, there is a small key pressed in the palm of his hand; it's cold and more heavy than he expected.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I was sorry.  
> No, seriously, I cried writing the scene between Jehan and Montparnasse. Did I say I regret my plot choices sometimes? Hell, I regret them a lot.
> 
> This chapter was really, really depressing, starting with Bahorel leaving and finishing with Montparnasse leaving.
> 
> I guess you can come and share the pain at my tumblr, which is always drunkpylades.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Musichetta finds out about Jehan and Montparnasse and asks Cosette for help, Feuilly, Grantaire, and Eponine miss Bahorel, Azelma bakes cookies, and Courfeyrac asks Combeferre out on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point you know that I don't have a beta and I am just an italian girl trying her best with english.
> 
> Note: the chapter starts the morning after chapter 16, the meeting happens in the middle of the week and the last scene is Sunday.

Musichetta has been staring at Jehan for a good five minutes and she has been worried for a good two hours.

Probably, even the walls realized that something is wrong with Jehan at this point, the boy seems distant, he’s very quiet, and there is no trace of his usual smile and good mood.

He welcomed all the customers and did his work brilliantly, of course, but to Musichetta’s expert eye, it’s clear that he’s doing that like a robot and not like a human being. There is no heart in his actions.

“Jehan?” she calls.

“Mh?” the boy replies focused on writing some detail of an order on a piece of paper.

“Are you okay?” Musichetta goes straight to the point. “You look awful.”

Jehan shrugs, he knows very well that he looks awful, after a sleepless night anyone would look awful.

“I am not sure.” he answers.

He expected a violent reaction from himself, instead he spent the night staring at the ceiling, the small key digging into the flesh of his hand, and feeling absolutely nothing.

When he found out about Courfeyrac’s feelings he cried, because he was sad, because he was sorry, because he was frustrated about the situation; he felt a lot of things and slowly calmed down as the hours went by.

There is no sadness now, he didn’t shed a single tear and still don’t feel like crying at all, there is no regret, no remorse, there is absolutely _nothing_.

To be correct, there is something: a numbness that he never felt before, dangerously close to a form of apathy, that he can’t shake off.

It’s like being anesthetized.

Probably because the pain is too much and his body is trying to protect him knowing that he wouldn’t survive it.

“What happened?” Musichetta is the only person on the planet that can be so concerned and authoritarian at the same time.

“Montparnasse…” Jehan doesn’t know exactly how to explain what happened. “We broke up.”

For a couple of seconds, Musichetta stares at Jehan with her mouth slightly opened, in shock. Well, that definitely explain why Jehan looks miserable.

“Oh Jehan.” she whispers, her voice soft and understanding. “I am so sorry.” she adds hugging the other boy like a mother would hug a child.

Jehan let Musichetta hug him and it’s good, because he feels quite safe in her arms, and he knows she is really sorry for him, that she truly cares about how he feels.

“That bastard, breaking up with such a sweetheart as yourself.” Musichetta shakes her head in disapproval. “I hope he knows he’ll never find again someone like you who forgives him for everything and has the patience of a saint.”

“Musichetta…” Jehan pulls away from the hug and frowns. “You don’t even know why we broke up, don’t say such things...”

“Jehan, honey,” Musichetta takes a deep breath. “For how much I realize you two love -loved- each other, you know that I don’t really like Montparnasse. I don’t know how you could stay with him for so long, but that’s probably because you see another side of him that we don’t.” he shakes her head, this is not the right moment for a rant.  “Anyway, my point is that breaking up with you and making you suffer makes him a bastard.”

“Maybe.” Jehan frowns even more, he steps back and starts looking at some papers on the desk to avoid looking at the girl. “I am the one who made him suffer and that makes me a bastard.”

“You?” Musichetta arches an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, dear. I really doubt you made him suffer.”

“I kissed Courfeyrac.” Jehan spits out with a hint of disgusts towards himself. He looks at Musichetta once again. “I am the one who broke his heart. I am the bastard.”

Musichetta doesn’t know what to say because she didn’t see this coming. She had really no idea something like that happened -or could happen in this universe. Jehan and Courfeyrac kissed. And nobody told her.

“Why I didn’t know it?” she crosses her arms over her chest and looks at Jehan waiting.

“Because -obviously- we wanted to keep it a secret.” Jehan whispers.

“I know everything about your love life. And Courfeyrac’s.” Musichetta pouts. “I feel offended I didn’t know.”

“Really, Musichetta?” Jehan blinks confused. “I’m telling you I cheated on my boyfriend and he broke up with me and all you care about is that you didn’t know?”

“Of course!” Musichetta exclaims. “See? Bad things happen when you don’t tell Musichetta everything and you have nobody to give you an advice.”

Jehan tries to imagine himself after Christmas going to Musichetta to tell everything and he has to admit that -even if it wouldn’t change a thing- tell everything to someone would have make him feel better.

“So he found out and got mad at you?” Musichetta asks gently when she realizes the other will not speak.

“No.” Jehan shakes his head. “He has been very polite, he broke up with me so I could understand what I feel for Courfeyrac because he didn’t want me to feel obligated.”

Musichetta has to admit that she didn’t expect that from Montparnasse either. What the hell is happening to the world she knew? Montparnasse is a nice guy and Jehan kisses people who are not his boyfriend?

“And what do you feel for Courfeyrac?” Musichetta asks cautiously.

Jehan thinks about for a moment. He feels a lot of things about Courfeyrac, but he’s not sure what he feels _for_ him. And right now, he couldn’t tell anyway, because he still feel like he’s separated from his heart.

“That’s the question.” Jehan whispers. “And I have to find an answer as soon as possible. I don’t want to hurt them with my behavior anymore.”

“I’ll help you.” Musichetta decides because she refuses to believe the guy next to her is her Jehan. Her Jehan is sweet, he smiles a lot, and loves the world; the guy in front of her seems like the union of the wrong soul of in the wrong body.

“Thank you.” Jehan gives Musichetta’s hand a gentle squeeze.

 

* * *

 

Cosette enters the living room bringing a tray with three mug of hot chocolate on it. Musichetta called her in the afternoon declaring an urgent emergency that required her help, and when she arrived at Jehan's place and they told her what happened, she felt she couldn't deny her help at all.

The chocolate was her idea, a way to make something so sad less bitter. And she's sure that chocolate, in situation like this, is the best medicine, not to mention that drinking something hot will ease the tension in the room.

Jehan forces himself to look at Cosette when the blonde girl gives him his mug, but it's not a very warm smile. “Thank you.”

Musichetta smiles too, but she has a serious look on her face, and Cosette is actually concerned about both of them and the situation.

Jehan and Cosette sits on the couch, while Musichetta sits on the floor facing them, her leg crossed and her back perfectly straight.

“So.” she starts, her eyes fixed on Jehan. “Tell us exactly what happened. This morning we didn't have a proper chat.”

“And I have no idea of what happened.” Cosette adds gingerly.

Jehan nods and tells the two girls what happened, from the conversation at the Musain with Courfeyrac, to the kiss at Christmas, from the lunch with Courfeyrac the previous day, to the way that Montparnasse wanted to take some time apart even before knowing about the kiss; how he politely accepted the fact that he kissed Courfeyrac, and he reassured them that he didn't get angry or anything and never looked like he wanted to hit him. Because Musichetta was right, he has a past, but Jehan knows Montparnasse and he wants his friends to understand that he would never do anything to harm him.

He doesn't tell them about how sad Montparnasse looked, however, or how gently he kissed him, because that's something that belongs to them, something that is too private to share.

And because thinking about that sends a jolt of pain in his whole being and he'd rather feel numb than feel that, thank you very much.

At the end of the story, Cosette seems relieved and more relaxed, and she must confess to herself that she was worried that something bad happened, because after months she can't simply forget what Montparnasse did to Eponine. But Jehan is fine -well, how much someone who just broke up wit his boyfriend can be fine- and everything is okay.

Musichetta slowly takes a sip of her chocolate and even if it's definitely too sweet for her taste, she doesn't complain.

“It's not easy for me to say,” she starts. “but Montparnasse showed a little bit of common sense for once.”

Cosette frowns. “Common sense?”

“Instead of being a jealous boyfriend, he acknowledge the fact that Jehan has the right to be happy and he gave him the chance to clarify his feelings.” Musichetta explains. “It's almost sweet.”

“I don't think it's sweet.” Jehan murmurs gripping the mug in his hands. “I don't see it as a sweet thing at all.”

Cosette gently rests a hand over his arm. “Of course you don't, he still broke up with you.”

“For a good reasons.” Musichetta points out, and when four eyes snaps to her like she just cursed or summoned Satan she sighs. “I am not saying what you did was bad in absolute, Jehan, but I understand his point of view.”

“I don't.” Cosette retorts. “If you love someone, if you really do, you forgive his mistakes. It was just a kiss.”

“If you love someone, you are ready to let him go if you understand you are not the best for him.” Musichetta says. “In this case, you let him go if you are not sure you are what he wants.”

“ _Girls,_ ” Jehan says and he's sounding like he's going to be sick at any moment. “You are not helping.” he doesn't need them to remind him that Montparnasse loves him, he knows it on his own too well.

“Yeah, sorry.” Musichetta gulps down a mouthful of chocolate and rests the mug on the floor next to her. “So, do you like Courfeyrac or not?”

Jehan starts to hate this question, because it's silly and people can't really pretend he has an answer.

“Answer me.” Musichetta orders. “Say anything on the matter, say everything you feel, you need to be honest with yourself. I promise we will not judge you.” she looks at Cosette who nods immediately making clear that she will not say a thing.

Jehan looks at the two girl and sighs. He guesses it cannot be that bad and that it will only help him to say things out loud instead of thinking about it. Not that he really thought about the matter, he tried to bury it deep inside of him in order  to forget, but clearly it didn't work so well.

“I like Courfeyrac, yes.” Jehan admits cautiously. “Who doesn't? He's like a sunlight, bright and warm, being around him would make anyone's day better. He's the kind of friend everyone hope they'll find. And he has a kind heart too, I never saw him hurt anyone or being mean.”

“Agree.” Musichetta says. “But do you like him _romantically_?”

“Maybe.” Jehan answer. “He asked me if we could ever be together if it wasn't for Montparnasse, and that was the start of everything.”

“That was a low blow.” Musichetta comments frowning. “A legitimate question, but not a nice one.”

“No.” Jehan agrees and he grips the mug tighter.

“And what was your answer?” Cosette inputs gently

“If I had an answer I wouldn't be here.” Jehan replies honestly. “We had all the time in the world to fall in love or trying to date, and yet we never did, and I ask myself why, sometimes.”

Musichetta rolls her eyes. “Courfeyrac's Don Juan career, maybe?”

Jehan stares at Musichetta as she keeps all the answer to the universe. They had all the time, it's true, all the occasions to start something more than a friendship, also true, but it is also true that Courfeyrac has always been very obvious about his sexual life.

And Jehan knew since the age of nineteen that he wasn't interested in occasional stories, that they weren't worth his time. Call him a romantic, but he hoped in a one true love.

The opposite of what Courfeyrac believed in.

It never mattered, their friendship wasn't affected from it because they respected each other's decision, but maybe - _maybe_ \- it made impossible for Jehan to see Courfeyrac as a love interest.

“Maybe.” he repeats, feeling himself becoming paler, even if he can't look at his own face. He must be right, because Cosette's hand squeezes his shoulder.

“You all knew about his feelings, why he never told me?” he asks suddenly, realizing that he never asked to his best friend why he kept them for so long.

“Courfeyrac...” Musichetta starts searching for the right words, she looks at her mug and dip a finger in the chocolate and brings it to her lips. “He has never been truly in love, you know? I think he was scared.”

“Of _me_?” Jehan asks surprised. “I am not scary.”

“Scared of your answer and scared of his own feelings.” Cosette explains, remembering all the conversation she had with Marius on the matter.

It makes sense for Jehan, love can be scary when you are not used to it or you don't read about it every day of your life. And it is scary that he realizes that he wouldn't have been able to reject completely Courfeyrac. Probably they would have try to stay together. After all, he didn't reject him not even when he had a boyfriend.

_Had._

Another jolt of pain; he closes his eyes and he could break the mug with his tight grip around it.

“Jehan?” Cosette asks worried. “Are you okay?”

“I am far from okay.” Jehan whispers and takes a deep breath. “Yes, I like Courfeyrac romantically.” he finally admits and he feels the urge to re-read every poem he wrote about him to find any trace of those feelings, to see if he put them between the lines without realizing doing it.

The two girls share a silent look, then Musichetta stands up.

“Well, you admitted it, it's a start.” the girl announces. “Because now we can apply the Musichetta method.”

Cosette asks herself how can Musichetta can be always so calm, confident and resolute, nothing seems to take away her ability to react. She's a warrior, a silent, kind, sympathetic warrior that doesn't allow an obstacle to stop her. She likes Musichetta, she really does.

“The Musichetta method?” Jehan asks kinda worried and he can hear Cosette almost laugh at his side.

“Hello?” Musichetta calls and then she point a finger to her face. “Queen of 'I love two boys at the same time' stuff”

Sometimes it's easy to forget that the relationship between Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet is not a common one, and it's easier to forget that once they actually had to talk about it and decide to try it.

“You are lucky, I am a master in this.” Musichetta smiles.

“I am, truly.” Jehan says with a smile and his voice finally sounds like his own, elegant and charming and generally glad that he's alive in this great universe.

“I'll tell you what we'll do.” Musichetta announces, then she makes a pause for a suspense effect. “We are going to leave Paris.”

“Leave Paris?” Cosette and Jehan ask at the same time, with the same horrified voice.

Musichetta arches an eyebrow and puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, leave Paris.” she repeats. “Look, Montparnasse had a good intuition, he knew you would never be able to decide if you were with him, but it's also true that you can't decide if you are around Courfeyrac.”

“I don't think it's fair.” Cosette points out. “Courfeyrac and Jehan aren't dating, and Montparnasse is right, he'll never know if...”

“Cosette, we all agree that Jehan has feelings for Courfeyrac, so trust me, it's not safe for him to be around him.”

 _I really have feelings for Courfeyrac_ , Jehan thinks; it's strange because someone else is saying it like it's normal and it's not, it's odd, he shouldn't have feelings for Courfeyrac.

“Why not?” Cosette asks

“Because now it would be easy for Jehan to find himself in Courfeyrac's arms and bed; because the feelings are new and he's alone and everyone is made of flesh and _nobody_ likes to be alone.” Musichetta explains with patience.

 _In Courfeyrac's bed_ , Jehan thinks and he feels his face getting hotter in embarrassment. Why are they talking like he's not there? And why are they saying things that send dirty images to his mind? He doesn't want them, he wants to recall how it feels to be touched by Montparnasse.

He never allowed anyone to touch him like he allowed Montparnasse to, and he's not sure he would ever be able to allow Courfeyrac to do the same.

“I see.” Cosette murmurs and she thinks about it for a good twenty second. “If he leaves Paris he will be alone...”

“And he will have the time and the freedom to sort his own feelings out without anyone forcing him.” Musichetta nods. “What do you think Jehan?”

“I think it's crazy.” Jehan answers. “How is that supposed to help me?”

“I'll tell you a story.” Musichetta decides and she sits down once again. “When I was fifteen I met Joly in biology class, he was adorable and I spent the whole lesson reassuring him that he wasn't going to catch every single illness listed in the book. A week later I met Bossuet at a french literature class, he started the lessons later because he broke a foot, and he made me laugh in two minutes. I liked them, I started to spend a lot of time with them, sometimes together, sometimes separately, they were already best friends back then but I never felt like the third wheel. A year later, almost at the same time, they asked me out on a date, and I dated both of them. Can you imagine? I wasn't the prettiest girl in the school, or the brightest, nobody never paid attention to me and then suddenly two boys asked me out! I jumped on it, thinking that maybe I was going to realize I liked one more than the other with time. And it was just a couple of date, nothing serious.”

Jehan listens carefully, this is a part of the story that they know, more or less, but he never saw Musichetta so lost in her memories and she doesn't look happy. _But she should_ , he thinks, _this is the story of how she met the two loves of her life._

“A couple of date became Friday nights playing video games with Bossuet and then a pizza and a movie, Saturday nights with Joly talking about books and cartoons, Sunday afternoon all together around shopping malls or doing homework. At the time I had no idea how they didn't know about what was going on honestly, I only found out years later that they were so scared to hurt the other that they never told each other they were dating me, my two beautiful idiots.” Musichetta smiles and shakes her head. “But _I knew_ what was going on, what _I_ was doing to them. They loved each other so much it was absurd. They still do, they look at each other as they are each other's gravity center. And I couldn't ruin that friendship;  I knew they were going to find out soon or later and that they would have hate me. So that summer I made plans in order to avoid both of them.”

“We never knew.” Jehan says suddenly. “We thought...”

“That one day we decided to sleep together and it magically worked? _Jehan_ , don't be naive” Musichetta laughs. “When I left that summer it was because I wanted to chose one, hoping the other would forgive me. But then the months went by and I realized that I couldn't choice. I couldn't. I loved them in the same way. So when I came back I told them because I was sick of lying or pretending. They argued a lot and for days they didn't talk; I felt bad because it was my fault: I thought I'd lost them and ruined their friendship. Then they asked me if I was serious and I said that I was, then they told me that if I wanted to date both of them, it was okay for them. It took them another year to realize that they loved each other as well, and admit that when they start dating me it was because they were scared of their feelings. Some time later we started sleeping all together and this is how we became what we are.”

Cosette is a pretty shade of pink and her mouth is slightly open. “That was a hell of a story, if you will ever have children they'll be traumatized for life. Never tell Courfeyrac, or he will tell them even if you don't want.”

Musichetta bursts out in a genuine laugh and Jehan smiles too because now she looks happy once again and it's okay.

“Sorry for the long story.” she says. “But my point is that: when you heart is divided you have to take a deep breath and realize what you want, but you can't do it if the objects of desire are constantly in front of your eyes tempting you.” her eyes move to Jehan, waiting for a response.

“You are wise.” Jehan says. “I should have come to you earlier.” he adds as an apology. “It's easy to forget how much you know of the world and the heart.”

Musichetta bows her head accepting the compliment.

“Okay, but were are we going?” Cosette asks. Nobody seems to mind the using of the plural, as it's already decided that they will do this together.

“London.” Musichetta announces with a grin. “I'm sure Bahorel will not disdain a visit from his friends.”

“Musichetta, _no_.” Jehan says categorically. “Bahorel is _working_ there, he's not on a holiday, we can't ask him.”

“Let him decide.” Musichetta says simply, ignoring the matter. “I say we go this weekend.”

“No.” Cosette says quickly. “Marius asked father to come to the church with us this Sunday and we already have plans.”

Musichetta arches an eyebrow. “Since when Marius is religious?”

“I think it's nice he wants to share something that means a lot to me.” Cosette says carefully.

“Surely God can wait a week?”

“Oh God can, of course. Not father, though.”

Jehan has to suppress a laugh covering his mouth with a hand. He met Valjean a couple of times, the most memorable when he came to his shop to buy flowers to Cosette's birthday, and Jehan remembers feeling sorry for Marius because he had to deal with such man. Valjean is actually a kind person, but he certainly don't look like one and he can be intimidating, to say the least.

“Then we go the weekend after the one coming.” Musichetta says. “Can you buy the tickets, Cosette?”

“Of course.” Cosette nods with a smile.

“And you.” Musichetta's index finger point at Jehan. “You are not going to talk with Courfeyrac until then.”

“What?” Jehan can't help being surprised. “Not talking to him seems exaggerated. _Of course_ I will not tell him about me and 'Parnasse.” Courfeyrac would feel guilty and he can't let that happen.

“Last time you two talked he said he loves you.” Musichetta reminds him.

“And that's exactly why I have to talk with him! I can't disappear and that being our last conversation.” Jehan points out. Suddenly he realize that everything happened only twenty four hours earlier and yet it feels like days. Then he also realizes he has been dealing with this for almost a month and he's authorized to feel somehow tired.

“Okay, but only when we are all the Musain.” Musichetta allows skeptically. “I don't trust you to leave you two alone.”

Jehan would like to ask her what she thinks he'll do, but then he remembers that every time they are alone _something_ happens and that without nothing stopping him, he could do something very stupid for the wrong reasons and at the wrong time.

“Fine.” he finally says and he ignores the triumphant smile on his friend's face.

“That's it, we have a plan, ladies and gentlemen!” Musichetta claps her hands once and stands up. “Meeting adjourned!”

“Oh god, you sound like Enjolras.” Cosette whispers.

“Well, you look like his lost twin sister but I am not here to point that out.” Musichetta replies.

“You just did!” Cosette says shocked.

“My bad.”

“ _Girls._ ” Jehan calls them amused. He's lucky to have such amazing friends that are able to make him feel better even in situation like this.

 

* * *

 

Joly keeps the Musain door open for Bossuet; it's something he does it automatically and no, it's not because that time when Bossuet accidentally walked into a closed door and he had a red bruise on his forehead for days, even if Musichetta insists it's because of that.  
Joly likes to think it's because of the smile Bossuet gives him every time, and that's enough.

The only people already at the Musain are Feuilly, Grantaire and Eponine, who are sitting at the same table -the one that Enjolras unofficially claimed and it's always free when they arrive- and all of them look horrible.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bossuet asks when they are close and can see their dark faces. Feuilly looks more tired than usual, a layer of ginger stubble on his jaw make him look even older, and he's absently spinning his cellphone over the table, next to him Grantaire is using his arms as a pillow over the table and he's hiding his face, and then Eponine has her head resting on Grantaire's shoulder and she looks sad.

“We miss Bahorel.” the three reply at the same time.

Bossuet gives Joly a look, then they take a seat at the table.

“I understand why Feuilly misses him,” Joly admits. “But why are you two missing him?”

“We went out to drink yesterday night.” Grantaire raises his head and he looks like someone who didn't sleep very much.

“Bad, bad idea.” Eponine adds annoyed.

“They started complaining I wasn't a good company and that Bahorel was a better one.” Feuilly says. “And everything went to hell from there, because I fucking miss Bahorel but it's not like I go around and tell everyone.”

“I miss drinking with him.” Grantaire admits.

“I miss him taking the bad guys away from me when we are out to have fun.” Eponine sighs. “Yesterday these two guys couldn't take a no for answer and I was pissed off.”

“She told me that if Bahorel was there he would have kicked their ass.” Feuilly keeps spinning his phone. “I reminder her that I wasn't Bahorel.”

“And we realize that there is only one Bahorel in the world and we miss him.” Grantaire concludes.

It's almost cute, Joly think, the way they are pissed at each other because they miss the same person.

“You are a horrible drinking buddy.” Grantaire says to Feuilly.

“You are impossible when drunk.” Feuilly says to Grantaire.

“You two are both two whiny babies.” Eponine says to both.

Bossuet bites his bottom lip because he feels he's going to laugh, and then he makes the mistake to look at Joly who is doing the same and they burst out laughing together.

“You two are insensible.” Eponine says to them.

“Sorry, but...” Joly takes a deep breath. “Are you listening to yourselves? You are _funny_.”

“Well, missing my boyfriend is not _funny_.” Feuilly mutters. “Damn, why do I even miss him? He's noisy, he snores like an old trombone, he can't cook dinner and he always finish all the hot water. I should be glad I get rid of him for a while.”

“Man, love work in mysterious ways.” Grantaire says sympathetically to Feuilly.

“Ask Jehan.” Eponine says noticing Jehan and Musichetta joining them. “Hey Jehan! Does love work in mysterious ways?”

Jehan would like to ask Eponine to gently shut up because he just arrived, it's not fair hurting him like that.

“Yes.” he answers politely.

“Ah, don't I know that?” Musichetta adds joining  her two boys and greeting both with a chaste kiss on the lips.

“See?” Eponine says tilting her head to look at Feuilly. “All okay.”

“Thank you, I guess?” Feuilly frowns, then shrugs, then says nothing.

Jehan and Musichetta look at Joly and Bossuet who shake their head. “Don't ask.”

“Okay,” Musichetta says frowning. “I am going to take something to drink, anyone wants anything?”

The question lead to a long list, and Jehan decide to help Musichetta carrying all the mugs to the table. At least the hot drink forces Eponine to change her position and it's something.

When he arrives, Enjolras finds his seven friend chatting and drinking around their table; there was a time when the first thing he noticed was the people missing, now the first thing he notices is if there is a boy with messy curls at the table or not.

 _Love do that to you_ , he told himself more than once, _it shifts all yours priorities_ and no, he's never going to tell Marius he was right and that now he understands.

“Enjolras!” Musichetta shouts and she jumps from her seat and welcome him with a panicked expression. “Thank God you are here, Feuilly, Grantaire and Eponine are being all childish and they are making our life a living hell, make them stop talking about Bahorel.”

Enjolras blinks once trying to keep up with Musichetta's words, he's not even at the table and he already has to bring order, it's unbelievable. They are supposed to be responsible adults. “Why are you talking about Bahorel?” he asks to the three.

“We miss him.” the three reply at the same time again.

“It's scary.” Joly whispers to Bossuet.

“Creepy, absolutely creepy.” Bossuet agrees. “They answer at the same time like three robots.”

“Do something.” Jehan asks gently.

“What am I supposed to...” Enjolras sighs. “I understand you are all missing Bahorel, we all do, not as much as you Feuilly, but we are all dealing with it together. We should focus on the fact that he's following his dreams and do what he likes.”

“Still missing him.” the three declares.

“I'm not telling you to stop missing him.” Enjolras puts some notebooks on the table and takes his coat off. “Don't be too sad, you don't want him to know and feel bad, don't you?”

That seems to work, because the three murmurs something but they don't protest.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras calls slightly worried. “Are you okay?” he asks realizing that the other haven't looked up at him yet and it's strange. Grantaire is always looking at him, and it took him a lot to learn to deal with it, to not be distracted by it, to know it but to keep the feeling of those eyes in the back of his mind, focusing on other things.

“Awesome.” Grantaire replies, he raises his head and mock a smile. “Awesome, yeah.” he repeats.

 _Fuck_ , Enjolras knows that look, the way Grantaire's eyes are red and he has dark circles under them. “Have you been drinking?”

“Maybe. A little.” Grantaire shrugs. “To, how you said, _deal with it_.”

“I tried to stop him.” Eponine says quickly, anticipating Enjolras' question.

“That's not exactly what I meant with dealing with it.” Enjolras says carefully.

“And how are you, uhm, dealing with it, then?” Grantaire asks a quizzing expression over his face. “I haven't an idea _you_ were missing Bahorel at all.”

There is a clear accusation in Grantaire's voice, and Enjolras knows that look on his face too, the look he has when they are going to have an argument. “He's my friend too.”

“You are dealing with it pretty well if _I_ had no idea you were missing him.” Grantaire says, but what he means is: _why didn't you tell me?_

“Probably because I don't have the tendency to deal with my problems with alcohol, so it's not obvious.” Enjolras says too quietly.

“Enjolras!” Musichetta says with a burning look.

“No, you don't have because you apparently don't need help from anything, or _anyone._ ” Grantaire ignores Musichetta, they are past the point when someone can stop them. And since they got together it's even harder to come between them and make them think.

“Next time I promise I'll share with you how I feel, so we can be sad together and you will not have to drink alone.”

“Oh for love's sake!” Musichetta tries again. “ _Stop._ ”

The argument it's not even about the drinking (that's something that there is between them constantly and Enjolras never hid his discomfort even if he never pushed Grantaire to do something he wasn't ready to do); the argument is about Grantaire feeling useless and betrayed because his boyfriend doesn't think he's able to listen to what he thinks and how he feels.

“Please do, I'd like to see a human Enjolras who cares about his friends, some says it's a mythological creature.” Grantaire snaps. If they are going to play dirty, it's fine for him.

“I _care_ about my friends.” Enjolras says and Grantaire's words hit the target, because his voice is not as steady. “If you are going to rant and be a bitter drunken you should not be here.”

“I shouldn't, I agree.” Grantaire stands up, the chair makes a loud noise against the floor. “I have no idea why I came here in the first place. Oh, wait, right, because _I_ have friends here.”

“You are not being fair.” Enjolras hisses and he can't look at Grantaire right now, he can't look while those eyes that usually adore him are trying to cut him like knives.

“Neither you.” Grantaire says solemnly. “What a couple of unfair people, we are.” he jokes.

“Made for each other, literally.” Enjolras replies with the same tone.

“Oh god they are able to flirt even when they fight.” Joly whispers shocked. How can they do that, seriously?

 _We are not flirting,_ Enjolras wants to tell them, _we are deadly serious_. He can feel it in his veins, a loud thump in his ears, he can see it in the way Grantaire stands facing and challenging him.

“January is not even ended.” Grantaire says. “And we are already arguing like this.”

Memories of what they told each other on the rooftop come back, and Enjolras knows that nobody got the meaning behind Grantaire's words, that are said because only he can understand, said to really hurt him.

And it's not fair because suddenly they are changing topic and their friends don't know it and he must look like an idiot because such harmless words shouldn't make him look so lost and hopeless.

He looks at Grantaire, and Grantaire looks at him, seeming to tell him _“we don't even need twelve months, look at us.”_ and then he's gone, moving to the counter.

“ _Grantaire._ ” Enjolras calls because this is too much, this is unfair, this is not what they were talking about.

But Grantaire doesn't stop, pretending he didn't hear him or the plea in his voice, and takes a bottle of something and he's out.

Everyone left stare at each other, silently deciding who will try to speak first after that.

“I thought arguments like this were just a memory since you two got together.” Musichetta comments.

“We are still Enjolras and Grantaire.” Enjolras shrugs, his eyes fixed on the table. He should sit, he knows it, he feels like an idiot standing there with everyone looking. He doesn't want them to look at him, he wants Grantaire. “Being together doesn't mean we fixed our communication issues.”

“Yeah, we got that.” Musichetta agrees.

Nobody say anything else and Enjolras realizes they are waiting for him to run after Grantaire and probably he should do it, because more time he let pass, harder it will be to fix everything.

To be honest, his legs ache to move and bring him to Grantaire, but his mind is telling him they have a meeting and he can't leave it.

“What the hell happened?” Courfeyrac enters the Musain, followed by Combeferre, and he points outside. “We saw R getting away and he looked like hell.”

“Enjolras.” Eponine answers simply.

And that's enough. “Ah, I see.” Courfeyrac looks at Enjolras and then his eyes find Jehan and he forgets about Grantaire and whatever he wanted to say because, _holy shit_ , Jehan is looking at him as he has seen a ghost. What the hell did he do this time?

“You are all right?” Combeferre asks cautiously, a hand on Enjolras shoulder.

“We'll be fine.” Enjolras reassures. It's not the first time they argued, it's almost a routine, and one day they will not be fine, but today is not the day. Yet.

Jehan silently watches as Enjolras finally sits and Combeferre take a seat next to him and Courfeyrac takes the spot next to Combeferre. When they did stop sitting together? He never realized it. There was a time when they were always whispering to each other's ear and quietly laughing hoping to not get caught by Enjolras.

He _liked_ that.

“Courf.” he says ignoring how Musichetta turns her head towards him too at the name. “I need to talk to you, can we do it before the meeting start?”

Courfeyrac feels his stomach knot and his first reaction is to look at Combeferre, silently asking for help, but then he casually makes his gaze fall on  Enjolras, trying to be at least subtle. “We'll be back before Marius and Cosette, I promise.”

Enjolras just nods and that's a perfect sign that his mind is somewhere else, because when Courfeyrac and Jehan leave he realizes who went outside and he looks at Combeferre.

In the look they share Enjolras asks the question Combeferre asked him earlier, and Combeferre gives Enjolras the same answer he gave him.

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire unlocks the door of his flat and he's welcomed by the scent of baked cookie and he realizes he forgot that Azelma is living with them now.

The young girl is putting the cookies in a jar, all happy and proud and Grantaire, stopping at the door frame, feels ashamed because it looks like Azelma was planning a surprise.

“This is the best smell this flat ever had.” Grantaire comments before he can keep his mouth shut and walks away.

Azelma looks at him, surprised at first, then she smiles. “Yeah?”

There is an excitement and a simplicity in Azelma that Eponine always lacked, Grantaire notices. “Yeah.”

“Weren't you supposed to be at a meeting with your friends, my sister and your boyfriend?” Azelma asks curious, closing the jar.

“We argued.” Grantaire shrugs. “We always do.”

Azelma frowns. “People in love shouldn't argue.”

“Well, we do.” Grantaire replies. This young girl will not give him love lessons. “Can I have a cookie because I argued with my boyfriend, though?”

“No.” Azelma shakes her head. “I want to eat them when we are all at home.”

“Eponine will not know about one cookie.”

“But I will.”

“Damn you, Thenardiers.”

Since he didn't plan to have free time, he finds himself in front of the TV watching stuff he usually don't watch because he's at work or somewhere else, and it's not a big loss, the programs are so boring that he almost feels the impulse to stand up and go paint something. Almost.

Azelma joins him, curling at the end of the couch, her knees to her chin, and Grantaire can't stop thinking how fragile she looks, yet it is clear she's feeling safe.

It has been a couple of days, but Grantaire is not getting used to have Azelma around the house, even if she has been kind and a good company so far. _She baked cookies_ , he remembers, _she's a keeper_.

But he doesn't know what to say to her, they have never been alone too much, he met her always because he was waiting for Eponine or Montparnasse and he doesn't know who Azelma is once separated from her family.

He doesn't know what she likes or dislikes or which topics are safe and which are not. And she already saw him in nothing but a pair of boxer wandering around the flat because he accidentally forgot they had a new guest. After that there is should not be any more kind of embarrassment.

He doesn't have to make conversation, he says himself, it's not his duty of anything else. He takes out his phone mindlessly and he's surprised to find two texts already.

 

 **Enjolras:** I am sorry, I really am. Please forgive me.

 

Since they got together, at least, Enjolras is quicker to apologize and realize his mistakes; it would be lovely if Grantaire wasn't at fault as well.  
The second text surprises him.

  **Montparnasse:** I have to talk to you.

 Grantaire decides that Enjolras can wait, he's at the meeting and they need time to talk after all, so he replies first to Montparnasse.

  **Grantaire:** You already have my address, what else do you want?  
 **Montparnasse:** Don't be sarcastic.  
 **Grantaire:** I wasn't. So, what's the emergency this time?  
 **Montparnasse:** I broke up with Jehan.

 

Grantaire chokes on his own saliva and he bless the heavens that he wasn't drinking or he would have drawn.

“Grantaire? Are you okay?” Azelma asks quickly, a hand stretched out to the other.

“Yeah, yeah, I am...yeah.” Grantaire reassures without being able to take his eyes off of the text. He reads it again and again, hoping that it will magically stop saying what it says.

 

 **Grantaire:** You are fucking kidding me.  
 **Montparnasse:** I am serious.  
 **Grantaire:** Shit. When?  
 **Montparnasse:** The day I sent Azelma. How is she doing anyway?  
 **Grantaire:** Don't fucking change topic! What the hell happened?  
 **Montparnasse:** I don't want to talk about it.  
 **Grantaire:** Then why the fuck are you telling me this?  
 **Montparnasse:** Because I want you to keep an eye on him. Tell me how he's doing.

 

 _He's doing fine_ , Grantaire would like to reply, _because last time I saw him not even an hour ago I couldn't tell something was wrong_.  
But then, Jehan is the guy who kept a relationship secret for six months, maybe he's a better actor they give him credit for.

 

 **Grantaire:** And how are you doing?  
 **Montparnasse:** Being stabbed hurt less.  
 **Grantaire:** Always so dramatic. Do you want company? A should to cry on?  
 **Montparnasse:** No. Just tell me if something happens to Jehan.  
 **Grantaire:** You are a fucking asshole for breaking up with him.  
 **Montparnasse:** I didn't have any choice, believe me.

 Grantaire is already typing the next rext asking what happened, when he realizes he doesn't want the details, he really doesn't. His love life is enough fucked up without the problems from his friends.

“What happened?” Azelma asks. “Problems?”

“Yeah, but not mine, so everything is okay.” Grantaire sighs and it's a lie, because he knows now he will be worried for Jehan. And yes, even for Montparnasse.  
Okay, maybe he wants the details, but not _now_ , he has to find the right words to apologize to Enjolras for being a bastard and hitting him in his soft spot.

* * *

 

When Courfeyrac realizes he's awake the first thing he would do is to go back to sleep, and he tries, curling himself against the warm body next to him in the bed, but the constant ticking from the clock on the living room's wall and the one on the bedside table makes it impossible.

He sighs and forces himself to fully wake up before the noise gets to his nerve.

The room is enlighten by a pale light coming from the window and everything seems softer, and impossibly still, like the noises of Paris outside can't disturb the quietness.

Courfeyrac feels like the only thing in movement in the room, and when he turns his head to his right, he finds Combeferre still asleep, breathing slowly, lost in the realms of dreams.

 _So this is how it feels when in the movies they stop time and only one person keeps moving on_ , he thoughts.

He feels strangely like he could be able to do anything, it's surreal.

And what he does he to stay in bed and look at Combeferre, because he can't think of a better thing to do.

Combeferre is not beautiful in the society's way to define beauty, he hasn't a face that attract people's attention on the street, but is a very interesting face nonetheless. There are light lines on Combeferre's forehead due to his perennial frowning in concentration, his eyebrow have only slight curve helping him to look always serious, years and years of wearing glasses left a sign on his nose, his lips are thin and pale, and his jaw is perfectly squared.

There is nothing special, but Courfeyrac never saw someone with a face telling so much about the person itself.

One looks at Combeferre and people can't have a wrong impression about him, his face express calm and quiet, like his soul.

Some say people when are asleep looks younger, but Combeferre simply look relaxed in a way he never is when awake.

“Do you want to stare at me all day?”

Courfeyrac almost jumps of his skin hearing those words. _And this is how it feels when the time resume its course_.

“You are awake.” he points out toe obvious feeling betrayed.

Combeferre finally opens his eyes, there is still a trace of sleep in them, but also the last bit of bliss of pleasure, and looks at Courfeyrac. “Apparently.”

“I wasn't staring, anyway.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Okay, maybe I was.” Courfeyrac admits. “What will you do to stop me?” he asks batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Who said I want you to stop?” Combeferre asks as innocently.

“I...” Courfeyrac opens his mouth but he doesn't know know what to say to that. He never knows what to say most of the time around Combeferre lately.   “What time is it?” he asks instead, lazily resting his head over Combeferre's shoulder.

Combeferre first takes his glasses from the bedside table then he checks he watch. “Half past noon.” he declares. “When Marius will be back?”

“In a couple of hours. He's having lunch with the Valjeans right now, poor soul.” Courfeyrac answers. Marius should really start going to church more often, because having Sunday mornings in bed with Combeferre is definitely not bad and he's ready to do it again and again and again.

“Good, we can stay in bed a little more then.” Combeferre decides with a sigh. “I don't really feel like getting up right now.”

Courfeyrac chuckles and throws an arm over Combeferre's chest. “Nobody feels like get up after the Courfeyrac treatment.” he announces proudly tilting his head until he can kiss the other.

“You give yourself more credit than you should.” Combeferre raises an eyebrow. “You are not _that_ good.”

“I am definitely _that_ good.” Courfeyrac retorts pouting. “Don't deny it, you _love_ it.”

“I do.” Combeferre nods.“But I wasn't the one who had to quiet down because he was too vocal.”

“It's because that thing you did with your tongue -which you are totally going to do again.” Courfeyrac explains and he would start a fight because sex is _his_ thing and nobody can try to undermine him in that field, but Combeferre's body is warm under the blanket and there is a hand gently moving in small circles on his arm and he feels like melting. “Damn your talent to be so good with things that requires manual skills.”

Combeferre quietly laughs and tilts his head until it rests on top of Courfeyrac's “I am sure there is an innuendo there.”

“Of course there is.” Courfeyrac says annoyed. It's so obvious, it's him talking after all. The only reason why he doesn't add anything it's because when Combeferre laughs a fairy is born or something like that.

Feeling the relaxed mood in the room, Combeferre casually says. “What did you talk about with Jehan the other day?”

“Seriously?!” Courfeyrac exclaims and he pulls himself from Combeferre to look at him. “It's Sunday, we are in bed talking about the awesome sex we had and _you want to talk about Jehan_?”

“I don't want to talk about Jehan.” Combeferre says gently pulling Courfeyrac in his arms once again, barely endure having him so far away. “I just want to know if  something happened. I'm concerned, you know it.”

 _If something happened_ ; like a kiss or a love declaration. Combeferre is too politely to ask directly or to let show any kind of worry, Courfeyrac thinks as he let himself be dragged back in Combeferre's arms, but Combeferre is still human, after all, and he has doubt like everyone else. And Courfeyrac _did_ kiss Jehan, so if he wants to know if something like that happened again, he has a right.

“Everything's okay.” Courfeyrac reassures him. “He just wanted to apologize because he left in a hurry after lunch the day before the meeting, you know how Jehan is, always concerned about being impolite even when it's not his fault.”

It's a lie, Courfeyrac knows it, but he can't tell Combeferre about the stupid thing he did. He can't tell him that Jehan apologized for the way he replied and that Jehan has been extremely kind and nervous at the same time. He can still feel Jehan's fingers around his wrist. _“I should have handled your heart with more care, you are very dear to me Courfeyrac.”_

“You two had lunch?” Combeferre asks with curiosity, adjusting his glasses over his nose.

“Yes, I went to the shop thinking that meeting him with Musichetta wouldn't be a problem, and we went to eat together.” Courfeyrac shrugs hoping that the will be enough and there will be no more questions. He has to ask Musichetta to cover for him and tell Combeferre that he went to lunch with them if he asks. “Then Jehan left because he had a date with Montparnasse.” _and he forgot because he was with me, but you don't have to know this._

Combeferre frowns a little and stays silent for a few seconds. “It's a good thing.” he says finally, sounding very calm. “That you started to go out with Jehan again, you are friends after all. This situation it's not worth losing a friendship.”

Sometimes Courfeyrac would like to see Combeferre snap or -at least- let show what he really _feels_ and not what he _thinks_. He wants to see Combeferre's soul for what it is, behind his kindness and politeness, behind the rational mind, he wants to know every thought, every feeling whispered in his heartbeats.

“No, it's not.” Courfeyrac agrees, a hand absently pulling away a lock of hair from Combeferre's forehead. “Speaking of dates,” he change subject. “We should go out on a date.”

“On a date?” Combeferre repeats surprised. Why is he surprised in the first place? It’s not a foolish idea, it’s even logical, it’s even _sweet_.

“You know when couple go out together and talk about their families, their hobbies and they get to know each others better and spend time together…” Courfeyrac shrugs. “A date.”

“But you already know that things, Courfeyrac.” Combeferre points out. “We have been friends for so long that there is nothing you don’t know.” And he doesn't say it, but he has only a few memories that doesn't include Courfeyrac.

“Details!” Courfeyrac exclaims throwing his hands in the air. “We still should go on a date. We should really spend some time alone, well alone not in bed.”

On that point Courfeyrac is right, since the thing between them started, they spent more time in bed than talking, probably because they have known each other for so long that sex was the newest and most thrilling part of their relationship.

“Imagine this.” Courfeyrac says propping himself on an elbow. His fingers tracing a bite he left of Combeferre's collarbone as he speaks with a low, seductive voice. “We go out, we drink a hot chocolate on a bench, we talk about everything and nothing, we enjoy each other’s company, we kiss, we make jokes, we spend a whole afternoon together, alone, just as couples do. I’ll even buy you flowers.”

“Flowers?” Combeferre asks smiling. “Really?” it’s easier to ask about that than thinking about a proper date. One thing sleeping together and keep going out with all of their friends, but a date is a serious business and with everything going on, he’s not sure it’s a good idea.

 “Why not?” Courfeyrac frowns. “I know for sure that nobody ever bought you flowers, and I want to be the first. I want to do things nobody else ever did. I want to impress you.”

 _You don’t have to, I am already in love with you_ , Combeferre thinks but he doesn’t say it, because it will require a reaction from Courfeyrac and it’s too soon, too many wounds are still open, too many questions are still without answers. “Fine, we’ll go on a date.” He accepts and no, he’s not smiling content at the idea.

Courfeyrac kisses him happily again and again. “I haven’t had a proper date in a year, it’s exciting.”

Combeferre doesn’t point out that it has been years since he went on a serious date and that the idea to go with Courfeyrac is thrilling and frightening at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you remember when I told you I made poor plot choices? I lied. I sent Bahorel away so I could send Jehan to London.  
> Musichetta is the queen of everything and if this chapter happened 8 chapters ago everything would have been fine, but then I wouldn't have a plot.
> 
> Anyway, I want to tell everybody that I am making a hiatus with the fic because I have to fill a prompt in a fest and I can't write this until I'm done with that.  
> So, no more JPHABINC until november. I am sorry.
> 
> Come and say hi to lucifertaire on tumblr (or drunkpylades if you read this after halloween.)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jehan, Musichetta, and Cosette arrive in London; Eponine clears her coscience; Enjolras has a talk with Courfeyrac, and Bahorel is a grown up man who can handle a long distance relationship (or not.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually disclamers: English is not my first language and I don't have a beta. Mistakes and errors are 100% mine, and I am sorry.  
> I said I was on hiatus but I have been more than usual, I really really sorry.

“Are you sure it's the right address?” Jehan asks for the fifth time, and he's not even ashamed of it, because they have been there for ten minutes and nothing is happening. Not only they are in a city that none of them knows well, but their supposed host is nowhere to be seen. The only positive thing is that since it's a short trip, they don't have too many baggage and they don't look too much suspicious. 

“Yes.” Musichetta replies giving for the fifth time a deadly look to Jehan before checking the piece of paper where she wrote all the indications again and again. 

“Maybe he's having lunch out with his new team mates.” Cosette tries politely. She's the calmest of them at the moment, but after all she always is.

“Knowing that we would come?” Musichetta arches an eyebrow and looks at the other girl. “No way.” she answers her own question.

Jehan decides to call Bahorel once again, but as the first three times, Bahorel doesn't pick up and after a while, he just gives up.

“This trip is already going on so well.” he says ironically sitting on the stairs in front of the door of the building where Bahorel's apartment is supposed to be.

“Well, we arrived, right? It's a success so far, we are having just some...” Musichetta sighs. “Technical problems.” she finish with a big smile. 

“Bahorel disappearing it's not a 'technical problem', 'Chetta.” Cosette points out gently. 

“He didn't disappear, he's just...somewhere else.” Musichetta shrugs. “Where the hell is your adventure spirit? If he doesn't show up we just go have fun in London and try again in a couple of hours.”

“Oh yes, wonderful.” Jehan sighs. “We have been in England for one hour and I already want to go back home.”

“Jean Prouvaire, I'm disappointed.” Musichetta says solemnly. “Don't stand there and cry like a baby, but enjoy what life offers to you!”

Despite being called with his name -which means trouble coming from Musichetta- Jehan just shrugs. “There is really nothing very enjoyable in my life at the moment.”

“You are with me and Cosette, that's very enjoyable, you couldn't ask for better” Musichetta points out.

“Does it work on Joly and Bossuet?” Jehan asks with a half smile on his face.

“Oh yes.” Musichetta says with that smile that means there so much she's not telling, and honestly, that nobody really wants to know.

“Is that Bahorel?” Cosette asks suddenly interrupting the two, a finger pointing in the direction where a figure is running towards them.

“That is indeed Bahorel.” Musichetta confirms after a few second, when the figure is close enough for her to be sure.

Bahorel starts running quicker when he spots his friends waiting for him. “Sorry!” he shouts when he's in ear-rage. “I'm late!”  
“Yes you are.” Musichetta agrees once Bahorel stops in front of them, “But we can forgive you, I guess.”

“How kind of you.” Bahorel says seriously, but then he burst out in a genuine laugh and hugs all of his friends individually. “It's so good to see you. How was the flight?”

“Fine.” Cosette replies with a smile. “No problems at all”

 “Wonderful” Bahorel says all excited. “Come on, let's get inside. My apartment is on the fourth floor” he announces taking Cosette and Musichetta's cases with him, ignoring the protest coming from the two girls.

The apartment is rather small and suits perfectly one person, it looks lived, even if nothing shows the personality of the person living there at the moment since most of the furniture -most old and secondhand- doesn't look like something Bahorel would chose.  
“This is a temporary place until I can find one on my own.” Bahorel explains still excited, enjoying way too much how good it feels to speak french freely.

“It's cute.” Cosette says honestly looking around.

“Any news about when you should have your first official match?” Musichetta asks taking off her coat and hanging it next to the door.

“Nothing specific.” Bahorel answers not really happy, he leaves the girls' cases in a corner. “I'm still in training, you know?”

“Yes, we can see that.” Jehan says simply. It's not hard to tell since Bahorel looks even bigger than when he left Paris. “They asked you to cut your hair?”

Bahorel puts a hand over his head in a self-conscious gesture, feeling the short military-style hair. “Yes and no. Almost everyone had very short hair, so I did it too.”

“Trying to fit in, how cute you are.” Musichetta laughs and places a big kiss on Bahorel's cheek. 

“Mock me how much you want, but job is job.” Bahorel says solemnly.

“Now you sound like Feuilly.” Jehan points out happily, but regret it immediately as soon as he notices how Bahorel looks away at the name.

“Well, not everyone is lucky to work with a friend.” Musichetta states giving a big smile to Jehan.

“You are right.” Jehan nods, thankful of the way Musichetta saved the situation.

“Ah, you can't know how good is to hear someone speak french again.” Bahorel says finding back his good humor. “I missed it.”

“Oh poor me! I thought you missed _us_.” Musichetta bats her eyelashes gently

“That too.” Bahorel reassures with a grin. “Even if I hoped to see you in different circumstances.” he adds looking at Jehan. “I'm sorry about Montparnasse.” okay he's not, he's only glad Montparnasse did nothing to Jehan because it would take him half a day to go back to Paris and punch him. 

Jehan doesn't know what he's supposed to say: 'me too' ? Because well he _is_ sorry, or 'thank you' ? To let Bahorel knows he appreciates the sympathy. “I guess I'm the one to blame for everything, so don't be sorry” he says instead because that's the most true thing he could say.

“Nah man, everyone is fucking confused all the time.” Bahorel shrugs, then gives a pat on Jehan's shoulder. “Don't be hard with yourself about this, okay? I mean, in the end you did nothing but following your heart, that requires a fucking lot of courage.”

“That's what I've been trying to tell him all along!” Musichetta exclaims and she doesn't kiss Bahorel again only because that would ruin her lipstick and she forgot to bring that shade with her for the trip.

“I'll try.” Jehan doesn't sound convinced, but he smiles to them and promises himself that he will let it go and enjoy the weekend without blaming himself for a couple of hour.

“That's what we wanted to hear.” Cosette says with a gentle smile on her face.

“So what are the plans for today?” Bahorel asks at everyone. “I have the afternoon free.”

“Then, you are going to give us a tour of the city.” Musichetta decides happily. “Let's play tourist for a couple of hour.”

“Can we do that after lunch?” Cosette asks shyly. “I'm starving.”

“I second that.” Jehan adds. “And we can ask Bahorel all the details of his new life meanwhile.”

“It will disappointing and extremely boring” Bahorel warns the other three. “Come on, I'll cook.”

“Nothing that happens to you is ever disappointing or -god help us- boring.” Musichetta says simply. “You'll have to tell us everything.”

“It's going to be a long weekend, isn't it?” Bahorel asks frowning a little, but he's actually really happy to have some company that he doesn't mind at all.

 

* * *

 

It's no necessary to count the people present to realize that three of them are missing; and Enjolras gives to all his friends a confused and questioning look, waiting for the answer at a question that is doesn't ask out loud.

It's Combeferre to voice the question in Enjolras' mind, like most of the time after all, with his usual polite voice. “Where are Jehan, Musichetta and Cosette?”

Everyone looks around, as if the three person mentioned are supposed to pop up from nowhere in that moment, but nothing happens and most of them shrugs.

“They are in London.” Marius finally says. Without Cosette by his side, he looks like a different man, definitely less happy and less comfortable.

At the name of the city, Feuilly snaps to attention and looks at Marius with a frown. “London? Why are they in London?” he asks, the confusion hiding well the jealousy he feels because _they_ are in London, where Bahorel is, while he's in _Paris_ sitting in the same old café.

“I am not sure I can tell...” Marius says shrugging.

Joly and Bossuet share a look, quietly agreeing on their next move, because if Musichetta is in London they are supposed to know the reason why.

“Joly, Bossuet?” Enjolras asks, as expected.

“We are not sure we can tell either.” Bossuet says, hands up in surrender. 

“We can only tell that they are with Bahorel.” Joly adds

“But you know why.” Courfeyrac says with urgency. The fact that Jehan is in London doesn't appeal him, and all this mystery about it is making him nervous. Why Jehan didn't tell him he planned a trip to London?

“We know.” Marius agrees with a nod. “But it's not up to us to say the reason why they are in London. Really, you should ask them when they are back. Actually, they will tell you without problems...”

Marius' rant is interrupted by Grantaire stopping by the table and giving Eponine her coffee order. “Montparnasse and Jehan broke up. That's it.”

There is a moment of silence during which Marius sighs heavily. “We weren't supposed to say that.”

“They broke up?” Courfeyrac's voice is not as hysterical as it sounded in his mind, but it's distant and quiet.

“About a week ago” Grantaire shrugs. “So I guess Jehan is just trying to clear his mind after the break up, can't blame him for that.”

“Then why all this mystery?” Enjolras asks even more confused now. “He could have tell us instead of just disappearing.”

“Wait, his boyfriend leaves him and he takes Joly and Bossuet's girlfriend, and Mariu's one, and goes to visit the city where my boyfriend is?” Feuilly asks still not over the fact. “Bahorel didn't say a fucking word about it. I'm going to punch him when I'll get to see him when everyone here is done visiting him before me.”

“Now, there is no need to be bitter, Feuilly. It's not like they are in London for him...” Bossuet tries to say.

“Yeah sorry.” Feuilly pouts. “It's just that, you know...” he doesn't end the phrase. What's the point to tell them that he misses him, that talking over skype is not even close to talking face to face and that basically everything sucks?

“He knows.” Courfeyrac says suddenly, following his own thoughts and not the conversation happening around him. The only person having his whole attention is Combeferre.

“He knows.” Combeferre agrees, a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder to show his support. The only reason why Jehan and Montparnasse would ever break up is Montparnasse finding about Courfeyrac.

“Who knows what?” Marius asks confused.

“Nothing.” Courfeyrac says quickly moving a hand in the air. “Nothing.” he repeats again. But it's everything, and he wants to shout because, again, it's his fault. He can only imagine how Jehan is feeling and he can't blame him if he wanted to go away from Paris and this mess. _And you_ , he reminds himself, _you and your stupid feelings and you inability to keep your stupid mouth shut._

“Courf, are you okay?” Marius asks again, worried for his friend. He knows when Courfeyrac is not okay, and he knows that when it comes to Jehan, he is _never_ okay.

Eponine sips her coffee watching Courfeyrac and then, with a deliberately slow motion, rests her mug on the table. “He's not okay. If I can make an educated guess, I say that he's thinking that Montparnasse must know about the fact that he kissed Jehan.”

“Eponine!” Grantaire hisses and he covers the girl's mouth with his hand. “What the hell?!”

Eponine digs her nail deep into the skin of the head covering her mouth and pull it away, “I didn't want to die with that secret on my conscience, okay?”

Grantaire curses at the red signs on his hand. “You had not right to tell everyone!”

“It wasn't a secret anymore.” Eponine rolls her eyes. “Next time Courfeyrac can avoid kissing people with a boyfriend.”

While Grantaire and Eponine talk, the others are silent and all the eyes are on Courfeyrac, except for Enjolras', since the boy is looking at Combeferre concerned, but after a couple of seconds his eyes too are fixed on Courfeyrac, with something that is at the same time disappointment, disbelief, anger, and confusion.

“Yeah, that's a good advice, thank you 'Ponine.” Courfeyrac whispers with sarcasm “I didn't think about that.”

“You are welcome.” Eponine smile innocently, and only when Grantaire pinches her arm she stops.

“That would explain why she's applying the Musichetta's method.” Joly says to Bossuet with an eloquent look.

“Yes, now it makes definitely sense.” Bossuet agrees nodding once. 

“What's Musichetta's method?” Feuilly asks frowning. “What are you talking about?”

Joly explains to them, making the story as short as possible, because this is not about them and Musichetta, but about how Musichetta's way to do things could help Jehan in the situation.

“So you are saying that she brought Jehan in London because he's confused and he can't choose?” Combeferre asks adjusting his glasses over his nose, very careful not to look at Courfeyrac, because if he looks at Courfeyrac right now he can't trust himself in acting as this is not about him too, to some extensions. 

“Yes.” Bossuet says with a hit of enthusiasm that is clearly out of context.

“Well, it's not that...bad.” Marius says shyly. “I mean, yes it's sad and I am sorry for Jehan. But hey Courf, Jehan may decide that he wants to date you and not Montparnasse, not everything is lost.”

Courfeyrac likes Marius, he really does, he's a nice guy, he has a big heart, he's a hard worker, he's a tough guy who didn't let his bad situation ruin his good attitude, but he has this awful talent in making people feel more miserable when he tries to cheer them up.

“Yeah, awesome.” he says with a heavy sigh. “Really awesome.” 

“I don't understand why you look like someone just ran over you with a car.” Eponine frowns resting her chin over a hand. “You have been waiting for this opportunity for more than a year. The guy you love may love you back finally, smile for fuck's sake.”

Courfeyrac has a really nice list of reasons, the most important being Combeferre. He swears, he felt the exact moment when the air between them became cold and Combeferre started feeling uneasy around him.

And there is Enjolras looking at him with the same expression he used to give to Grantaire when he felt betrayed by him, and Courfeyrac never felt so little in his life. How Grantaire survived years of silent disappointment from Enjolras is a mystery: it has been like a minute and Courfeyrac is already ready to make all the vows necessary to see Enjolras looking at him with the same faith as before.

“Because I don't like to know that Jehan has a broken heart.” he says after a long moment. “I know how it feels like, okay?”

“I understand.” Eponine sighs annoyed. “But think about it: he has a broken heart and you'll be there to help him, his knight in shining armor. Take advantage of the situation.”

“That's exactly why Musichetta took Jehan away.” Bossuet comments giving a cold look at Eponine. “To avoid this kind of things. When Jehan will be ready he'll face Courfeyrac, not first.”

“Can we change subject?” Courfeyrac begs, silently asking Enjolras for help.

“Yes, we can and we should.” Enjolras announces going to the rescue of his friend, even if he's not going to forget this. It's just delayed. “We have things to plan and discuss, and I can assure you that broken hearts and love problems has never been in our schedule.”

Eponine raises a hand high, like if she's still in school. “With due the respect, Enjolras, but that's not true. We always talk about that stuff.”

“You know, now it's Courfeyrac and Jehan, but before them it was you and Grantaire.” Feuilly explain innocently. “You were just to blind to notice.”

“Feuilly is right.” Eponine says moving closer to the ginger. “We had to deal with Grantaire whining and complaining every day. We always have been a shelter for people with broken hearts.”

Enjolras can feel the blood rush to his face, and he looks at his hands gripping a paper for a moment. 

“Guys leave him alone.” Grantaire says loudly from the counter. “It's not his fault if he's blind to this kind of things. And it's not like I was so obvious about my feelings.”

Enjolras feels a little bit of relief and he gives Grantaire a thankful look with a small smile.

“You...wasn't...obvious about your feelings?” Eponine looks at Grantaire with eyes wide open. “You are fucking kidding me! You are mister I-can't-be-more-obvious-than-this!”

Courfeyrac relax a little sinking down in his chair. At least now nobody is paying attention to him anymore.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras stares at the door in front of him for a moment, a part of him urging him to action, and another part of him telling him to not get involved in this, that he has no right, that for once he should let his best friends deal with their feelings, that he already did enough.

But since Enjolras is Enjolras, he knocks, because the day he will silent himself will be the day he'll be a cold corpse, not before that.

The doors opens after a couple of second and Enjolras tries to put on his most polite smile, giving up immediately since he's not in a mood to smile.“Hey Marius, is Courfeyrac home?" 

Marius stares surprised at Enjolras for a moment, then he nods energetically. "Yes! Come in." he steps aside letting the other enter. "Courf?" he calls. "Enjolras is here!" 

Courfeyrac sighs loudly at the news and moves to the front door to meet his friend. If had a bad feeling during the meeting, now he knows he's in trouble, because Enjolras looks really pissed off and ready to punch him.

"We need to talk." Enjolras says sharply. "Alone." 

"Ehm, I'll go to my room, I guess." Marius announces already moving to his room. 

"Marius." Courfeyrac stops him grabbing his arm. "Maybe it's better if you go out for a while." 

"And what am I supposed to do out at this hour?" Marius asks, then he decides that maybe it's better for his own sake that he's not around when they have to talk. "Fine." he sighs. "Just don't take all night." 

"Thank you, Marius." Courfeyrac says with a smile. When Marius and Cosette will marry, he'll have to buy him a very big present because Marius is just a sweetheart.

Enjolras doesn't say anything, he patiently waits for Marius to get out of the flat, then he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Courfeyrac. "Tell me you didn't kiss Jehan after you slept with Combeferre."

"I could tell you that." Courfeyrac starts shrugging. "But I know how much you don't like lies and liars." 

"For fuck's sake Courfeyrac." Enjolras mutters rubbing his temples. "What the hell were you thinking?" 

"You'll find, my friend, that the point is that I wasn't thinking." Courfeyrac replies with an uncertain smile. If Enjolras is swearing that means that things are even worse than he expected. 

"Obviously." Enjolras rolls his eyes. "But really, what the hell, Courf?"

Courfeyrac sighs and plops on the sofa. "It was a moment of weakness!" he says dramatically. "Well, two..."

"Two?" Enjolras' voice is high."Two times? You kissed Jehan _two_ times?"

"The fact is not going to change if you keep saying it out loud, Enjolras." Courfeyrac points out. God knows how much he wishes he could change what happened and let things to back to when he was the only one suffering for an unrequited love, and things were generally easier.

"You are right." Enjolras agrees and finally takes his coat off. This conversation is going to take more time than he expected and probably he'll have to apologize to Grantaire for being late to their date, but he can't just ignore this. 

"Okay, go on." Courfeyrac sighs again. "Give me your best shot, tell me what you'll do to me if I even try to hurt Combeferre."

Enjolras rolls his eyes and hangs his coat on the back of a chair. "You think this is about Combeferre?"

Courfeyrac frowns. “Oh come on, _of course_ this is about Combeferre." he says simply. "To be honest it took you more than I expected to give me the big brother talk."

"Courfeyrac." Enjolras start seriously. "Yes, I am worried for Combeferre, but you are completely missing the reason why I am.”

“Because you know me well?” Courfeyrac asks innocently. If he was Enjolras, he would discourage someone like Combeferre to stay to someone like himself because of a long list of reasons. Enjolras knows everything about him, every little flaw, and he knows that this will not be in his favor.

“No, Courfeyrac, no.” Enjolras sighs. Why keeping up with his friends is so difficult? “The point is that I don't want to end up with both my best friend with a broken heart. I couldn't help you with Jehan and I saw you how it hurt you, so I'm trying my best to be sure that Combeferre is fine, because I couldn't handle another failure with my friends. And hurting him will mean that you will be hurt too, and I don't want to see you hurt again.”

Courfeyrac blinks surprised because he didn't expect that. He knows that Enjolras is not the most open person in the world when it comes to feelings, but more than one time he felt like he wasn't as important as Combeferre for him, but now Enjolras is there telling him, in his own way, that he is, and that he's sorry for not doing more than he did. 

“Things between us are fine, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac reassures his friend. “I told him about the kisses almost immediately because I didn't want to have secrets with him. We are also going out on a date tomorrow! So yeah, you shouldn't worry... And you can sit if you want, you know?”

“I shouldn't worry?” Enjolras asks sitting on the couch next to Courfeyrac. “I am definitely worried; this situation is a mess.”

“Oh, I didn't notice that.” Courfeyrac says ironically. “I thought everything was just fine like this!”

“Don't be sarcastic.” Enjolras gives the other a chastising look. “How do you feel, by the way? I'm talking about knowing that your actions basically lead to Jehan and his boyfriend breaking up."

"Woah Enjolras you are always so nice with people." Courfeyrac mutters. He likes to think that _other_ things helped as well, for example Montparnasse's criminal record, but he knows that mostly it's just his fault. "But you are right, it's my fault and...would believe me if I told you that I really didn't expect things to get this out of control?"

"Yes." Enjolras replies with a nod. "How do you think to get out of this situation?"

Courfeyrac let out a bitter laugh. "I have no idea!" he starts to play with the edge of his right sleeve just to do something. "You know the real problem is how Jehan left, without telling me a thing about what happened and I didn't have voice in the situation...he just...left. And now I am here unable to do anything."

"What would you have said to him?" Enjolras inquires. "That you were sort of dating Combeferre and to go back with Montparnasse? You realize that wouldn't work anyway, right?"

"Why not? Sounds like a reasonable speech to me." Courfeyrac pouts a little and looks up at Enjolras who is looking at him with an eyebrow slightly arched "...yeah okay maybe it wouldn't work because the damage was already done. Still, the fact that he left without saying anything makes everything even more complicated.”

“You shouldn't have kept your -let's call it relationship- with Combeferre a secret” Enjolras says with a flat tone. “If Jehan knew...”

“He would have thought that my feelings for him were nothing or that I wasn't serious with Combeferre.” Courfeyrac interrupts. It's not the first time he thought about it, it is becoming almost easy to voice his motivations.

“And are you serious with Combeferre?” Enjolras asks. It may be not a nice things to ask, especially because he knows Courfeyrac and he knows the other can be very serious, but they are talking about Combeferre and there is no such things are too much caution when it's about him.

“We are going out on a date.” Courfeyrac replies and he gingerly kicks Enjolras' leg. “How many people you know I have dated, mh? You know I don't like dates! If I am having a date with him it means I am serious, Enj!”  
“Don't call me Enj!” Enjolras protests kicking Courfeyrac for a good measure. “I just wanted to be sure.” 

“Well you have you answer now.” Courfeyrac says rolling his eyes. “And stop kicking me.”

“You started it, don't complain.” Enjolras points out simply, then he's serious once again. “I really hope everything will sort out for the best for everyone.”

Courfeyrac smiles a little. “It's reassuring to know that you are worried for me, Enjolras, thank you. But don't you have somewhere else to be instead of reminding me of how shitty my life is at the moment?”

Despite the urge to tell Courfeyrac that his life cannot be described as shitty at the moment, Enjolras let it go. “Actually yes, I have a date night with Grantaire.”

“Then go!” Courfeyrac says pushing Enjolras to force him to stand up. “If you get there late he'll kill me.”

Enjolras stands up rolling his eyes. “He would never do that.”

“Can't be sure, won't risk it.” Courfeyrac says offering to his friend his coat. “Plus I'd like to avoid to let Marius freeze to death.”

“I'm going, I'm going.” Enjolras reassures putting his coat on. He checks his watch on his way to the front door, trying to guess how late he will actual be.

“Have a nice night, say hi to Grantaire from me.” Courfeyrac smiles opening the front door for the other.

“I will.” Enjolras promises with a nod and he steps outside. Before Courfeyrac can close the door behind him, he turns around. “And...Courf?”

“Yes?”

“If you hurt Combeferre I'll hurt you. Bahorel taught me a trick or two.”

Courfeyrac almost laughs because he can totally picture Bahorel doing that and getting frustrated because Enjolras would be the worst student ever, but then he remembers how vicious Enjolras can be and he simply nods. “Got it.”  
“Good.” Enjolras smiles as nothing happened. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

When Courfeyrac closes the door he asks himself what he has done to get into a situation so bad that Enjolras threatened him.

 

* * *

 

As the movie's credits rolls on the TV screen, Cosette let go a yawn, covering her mouth with a hand. 

“Are you tired?” Jehan asks her gently and almost worried.

“Yes.” Cosette admits simply. “We walked a lot today.”

“It has been a long day.” Musichetta says. “To be honest I am tired too.”

“Then we should go to bed.” Bahorel suggests turning off the TV with the remote. “I have training early tomorrow anyway.”

“I agree.” Jehan nods, feeling tired as well. “How do we set for the night?” he asks confused. Bahorel has only one bedroom and he really has no idea how four people could sleep in there.

“The girls can sleep in my bedroom, and you Jehan can sleep on the couch.” Bahorel instructs simply.

“No, Bahorel.” Jehan protests vividly. “Where are you going to sleep? On the floor? I can't let you do that.”

“And I can't let my guests to be uncomfortable.” Bahorel replies. “Seriously, sleeping on the floor is not a big deal, and for a big guy like me it's more comfortable that sleeping on the couch, where a little guy like you will fit.” he explains patting Jehan on the shoulder and with a big grin on his face.

Jehan knows it's Bahorel's way to take care of him, and he's really grateful for the nice attention. In moments like this Jehan knows for sure that, no matter what, his friends will always be there for him. “Thank you.”

“Good, then we'll get the suite.” Musichetta announces, arm in arm with Cosette.

“Goodnight girls.” Bahorel smiles at the two.

“Goodnight.” Cosette says before Musichetta drags her away and in the bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later the flat is quiet, all lights are off, Musichetta and Cosette are in the bedroom, and Jehan is really trying not to feel too guilty about Bahorel on the floor.

“Jehan.” Bahorel calls. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Jehan replies.

“How is everybody?”

Jehan smiles and turns on his side to look better a Bahorel. It must be horrible to be away from the people that had become a big part of your life. “Everyone is just as always, you have your Eponine being almost as bossy as Enjolras, Joly being busy with med school, Bossuet trying to keep a job, Combeferre having two books in his bags, Grantaire drinking and working, Marius is still the most innocent of us, and Feuilly works from dawn to night.”

At the name Bahorel shifts uncomfortably. “How...How he is doing?”

“He's...” Jehan frowns. “Dealing with it, I guess.”

“I asked you because I want you to be honest, Feuilly says he's okay, but I know he's telling me that just because he doesn't want to make me worry.”

“But you do anyway.” Jehan completes for him.

“Of course. I mean, it's not like Feuilly has a good record with separation issues and people leaving him.” Bahorel explains. “I just want to know how much I screwed things up.”

“You didn't screw up anything.” Jehan says gently. “He misses you, we all do, but he does it more than us, it was predictable.”

“I did, Jehan.” Bahorel protests. “Everything happened at the worst possible timing. I...” he hesitates, deciding if it's fair to talk about this with Jehan or not. “I fear that I did the wrong thing, you know? Everything happened so fast that I really didn't have time to stop and think about consequences. I only knew that I didn't want to leave knowing I ignored his feelings, so I jumped in and acted. I thought it was worth a shot, that since we had no time, acting was better than holding it back, but now...” he sighs. “Now I'm gone and I'm not sure I did the right thing, actually I'm pretty sure I only made things worse because I'm here and he's there and it's fucking complicated because I left before we could have an idea of what the hell is really between us.”

Jehan understands Bahorel's worries, and he'd like to tell him that everything will be fine, but he's not really in the position to tell him so, not now. “Do you love him?” he asks instead.

Bahorel groans. “I guess. I mean, I told him, but...you know, again I had to do things in a rush and probably did more harm than good. What if I screwed up our friendship? Seriously, what if we become that kind of people that used to be good friends but then tried a relationship and it didn't work and they stopped being friends? Or worse, what if we are that kind of friends who fall in love with their best friend because it's just easy and awfully cliché?”

Jehan blinks a few times, Bahorel's words hitting him to a deep level, and suddenly he's very glad that Musichetta took him away from Paris and Courfeyrac, just because he had a chance to hear that. He can see Courfeyrac hiding his feelings for him because of the same fear, and he knows that now he has the same fear as well. Love shouldn't be like this, love should make you happy, fearless even, because in the world there is someone on your side, _always;_ love shouldn't make life more complicated, but better. Love shouldn't be a problem, but a complex and generally positive experience, with just a little number of downsides.

“Bahorel.” Jehan starts. “What about the courage that requires to follow your heart? Everything will be fine as long as you are honest with each other”

“I shouldn't have said that.” Bahorel mutters rolling his eyes. 

“Probably not.” Jehan smiles gently. “But it was a wise advice, follow it. If something will not be right, Feuilly will tell you I am sure of it, don't worry too much, or talk about this with him if you need assurance.”

Bahorel sighs because he needs assurance, but he doesn't want to sound like a whining baby, he's a grown up man and he can handle a long distance relationship that is, to be honest, not that long. “Well, thanks for listening to me and reassuring me.” he says. “Do you want to talk about...your situation?”

The smile disappears from Jehan's lips. “I don't think I'm authorized to even think about it...”

“Bullshit.” Bahorel shrugs. “You are thinking about it and that's normal, but if you don't want to talk about it that's fine.”

“No, I don't want to talk about it.” Jehan whispers changing again position so that he's staring at the ceiling. He wants to escape from thoughts and pain for a couple of day, pretending that he's fine for a couple of hour and just let things be. 

“All right.” Bahorel doesn't insists because that would be pointless. “But hey, when you want to talk I'm here, okay?”

Jehan nods, even if Bahorel probably can't see him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, man.” Bahorel smiles. “So what are you going to do tomorrow?”

“We'll improvise, and to be honest I'm scared of what Musichetta has in mind...” Jehan admits shyly.

“I heard you!” Musichetta shouts from the bedroom. “I'll make you pay for it Jean Prouvaire, I swear!”

Bahorel laughs and Jehan does the same a couple of seconds later.

“Sorry about the paper-thin walls.” Bahorel says to the other boy.

“At least now I have a good reason to be scared.” Jehan adds and laughs again. He haven't laugh like that in a couple of weeks and it feels _wonderful_ , he already feels better.

Maybe Musichetta has eccentric ideas, but as long as they work, Jehan is going to follow her, and maybe now he's looking forward the next days with a new-found excitement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!  
> Guess what? JPHABINC came out before Sherlock s3 which is, woah, something great indeed.
> 
> I know this chapter is short and doesn't have much plot or sense, but next chapter will be longer and definitely more painful, so...brace yourselves people.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marius talks with Valjean and Javert, and everyone else doesn't have a nice time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Usual disclamers, you all know them. I'm still bad at english and without a beta.)
> 
> So it's a year.  
> A year ago I published the first chapter of this fanfiction.  
> A year ago the Jehan/Montparnasse fandom was small and I want to thank everyone who came to me and encouraged me to go on because the fandom needed this fanfiction.  
> I want to say thank you to all who commented and waited and didn't kill me waiting months for a new chapter. (I am not the quickiest uploader on Earth, and trust me I am very self-conscious about this fic.)
> 
> A special thank you to:  
> Eda, for reading this and becoming my friend  
> Sil, for having a lot of emotions about this fic that makes me think that I'm doing something good,  
> Lole, for being always su supportive and nice to me -God knows how much I need it.

Valjean's house is in the center of Paris. Cosette told Marius that they haven't always lived there; when she was little they lived in a small mansard, then they moved in the center when Valjean and Javert decided to try a relationship and Valjean decided to find a place near the police station because, otherwise, Javert wouldn't have never been at home.

Marius can still hear in his ears the way Cosette laughed at that part and he smiles, standing in front of the door, despite how nervous he feels.

He has been there a lot of times in the years he has been with Cosette, but this time is different and he needs all his courage.

He straighten his tie, trying to look like a responsible adult, and knocks.

After a couple of seconds, Valjean opens the door and stares curiously at Marius. “Hello, Marius”

“Good Morning, Monsiuer Valjean.” Marius smiles nervously realizing that, despite the years and the gray hair around his temple, Valjean still intimidates him.

“If you search for Cosette, she's in London.” Valjean says politely.

“Yes, yes, I know!” Marius nods energetically. “That's why I am here.”

Valjean frowns and let Marius enter; clearly there is something bothering the boy, probably something he doesn't want Cosette to know. “How can I help you?”

Javert is in the living room reading some cases files on the couch, and when he recognizes Marius' voice he looks up from the papers to the two entering the room adjusting his reading glasses over his nose.

“There is something...” Marius stops when he catches Javert looking at him with that look that only an inspector can give. “Hello, Inspector Javert.”

“Marius.” Javert says back in what is supposed to be a greeting.

“Have a sit, son.” Valjean gesture for one of the armchairs in the room. “And tell us what's going on.”

“Yes, thank you.” Marius smiles nervously and sits on the armchair in front of the couch, almost as the same time when Valjean sits down next to Javert, which makes everything harder because now he's facing the two men and he has no idea how to do this. “So...” _no that's a bad start_. He clears his throat and reminds himself that he's doing nothing bad. “You know how much I love your daughter.”

“We definitely know how much _she_ loves you.” Javert comments crossing his arms over his chest.

The interruption is enough to make Marius forget what he wanted to say. He planned this, _damn_ , he rehearsed the speech in front of the mirror because he _knew_ he would freak out! _Damn damn damn._ “Yes Cosette does love me and I consider myself very lucky to be loved by someone like her.”

Valjean and Javert share a look and that's all they need to know that they both understood Mariu's intention. Marius has never been good in being mysterious, he's too honest, too easy to read, and that's something Javert always appreciated about him.

Marius takes the silence as a hint to go on. “Since the first day I met her, Cosette has been the best thing in my life.” why his hands are so sweaty? That's gross. He should really stop rubbing them together, that's not helping. “I don't say it lightly, I really mean it. Cosette is the most wonderful person I ever met, and she makes me a better person. I want to make her happy because she deserves it, and I want her to be happy every single day.” it may sound egoistical or pretentious, thinking that he can make Cosette happy, but he can try, and he will, because he doesn't want to think that in this world, someone like Cosette doesn't have all the happiness she deserves. “I love her, with all my heart.” he says honestly, a smile on his lips. “I am here to ask you the permission to ask Cosette to marry me.”

Carefully, Javert and Valjean share another silent look, then Valjean looks at the boy sitting in front of him, with all the hopes of the world in his eyes, all the excitement for the future before him clearly readable on his face.

“You do understand,” Valjean starts “ that Cosette is an adult and she's free to make her own choice?”

“This is really old fashion-style.” Javert mutters in that way that may sound annoyed and critical, but that is just his natural approach to basic observations.

“Of course, the choice is Cosette's.” Marius nods energetically. “But she loves you both, you are important for her, you are her family! And you love her, she's your daughter. I know how important your approval would be.”

“You are a good guy, Marius.” Valjean says honestly. “I am sure you will make Cosette very happy. You have our blessing.”

“ _Jean._ ” Javert says sharply. “Talk for yourself. I'm not thrilled by the idea of Marius marrying Cosette.”

Marius, who has almost touched heaven when Valjean gave him his blessing, falls back on earth and he feels defeated. “You are not...?”

“Don't get me wrong, I like you Marius, ” Javert starts not really caring about being gentle. “But I don't like the idea of Cosette being married to someone whose all friends are being stopped by police more than once and that are very well known to be involved in various protests and riots.”

“This is not about my friends.” Marius comments forcing himself to stay calm. “I know you don't agree with us, or our methods, inspector, but we are trying to make the world better, and Cosette wants that too.”

“This is not about his friends.” Valjean repeats gently, a hand on Javert's shoulder. “And Cosette knows how to stay out of serious trouble if she wants.”

“I just want to make clear one thing.” Javert seems to ignore Valjean's words, but his voice is somehow softer, less intimidating. “If you marry Cosette and something happens to you because of your friends and you make her sad or make her life complicate, I'll consider you responsible for it.”

Marius swallows nervously, does it mean he just has to be careful and everything is fine? With Javert is hard to say if he's threating him or not. “I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy, you have my word of honor.”

Javert arches an eyebrow, highly doubting that that young boy sitting in front of him with a face full of freckles actually has an honor yet, but he decides that, after all, he deserves a little bit of trust. “When you are going to propose to her?”

The biggest smile lights up Marius' face. So he can ask Cosette! He _will_ ask Cosette to be his wife. No more doubts. “I don't know yet. I was planning to buy the ring this afternoon.”

“So any day after she's back.” Valjean says slowly, to himself.

“Yes, I still have to think about the proper way to ask her, but it will be soon.” Marius can't hide his excitement at all, he's like a child in front of a candy shop.

“Well, I guess that we can only wish you luck at this point.” Javert says noticing that his partner has become quiet.

“I'll need that.” Marius nods. And he'll need help. From a very good friend. “Thank you both for giving me the permission to ask Cosette.” Marius stands up and shakes both men's hands with energy. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank us, son.” Valjean stands up and squeezes Marius' shoulder. “You earned our trust, and Cosette's love. We did nothing.”

“Just...” Marius feels his face almost aching for how much he's smiling. “Thank you.” he says again because he's really thankful.

“Now go. You have a ring to buy and much to think about.” Valjean smiles too and lead Marius to the door, just before he can say 'thank you' again.

“Yes, I do.” Marius nods. “Please don't tell anything to Cosette!”

“We won't.” Javert answers joining them. “Don't worry, we can keep our secrets.”

“Wonderful.” Marius shakes their hands one more time. “Goodbye. Sorry for the disturb and...”

“Marius don't say thank you.” Javert warns with a scolding look

“Very well.” Marius sighs, what's wrong with being thankful and happy? “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Valjean says gently.

When the door closes Javert gives Valjean a simple look, and then goes back to his files on the couch. He'll find a way to get the damn Patron-Minette out of the streets.

“What?” Valjean asks following him, frowning.

“Oh, nothing.” Javert puts his glasses on, sits on the couch and flips a page.

“I know that look after all these years. What's going on?” Valjean insists.

“You became quiet.” Javert shrugs. “You realize that even if Cosette will marry Marius, she will not stop being your daughter and she'll visit, yes?”

“ _Our_ daughter.” Valjean reminds simply. “You are her legal tutor as well.”

“Fine, _our_ daughter.” Javert says. Yes, legally, Cosette is his daughter, but Valjean is the one who took her when she was eight, he came in the picture later, when he was already her papa and they were a family. “She will not disappear, don't act like a sad, lonely, old man.”

“It's just that...they grow up so fast. For me she's still a little girl.” Valjean admits. He can still see the scared little girl he took with him, the little girl that changed his life for better and made his days brighter.

“But she's a woman now, Jean. A very educated and lovely woman you raised up. You did a wonderful job with her, and Marius will be a wonderful husband, you have nothing to worry or be sad about.”

“I'll tell Marius this on the wedding day, he'll be happy to hear that.” Valjean laughs.

“Go on, I'll deny. Your word against mine.” Javert smiles. “She'll be fine. _You_ will be fine.”

“I know.” Valjean nods thoughtfully because Javert is right, but he can't help feeling a little sad.   
He will never stop being her father, never, and it is his right to let her go and let her live her life. He'll just need time to adjust to the new change in his life.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell 'Jehan is London' means?” Montparnasse asks holding his phone in display, the text that Grantaire sent him clearly visible.

“That he's in Spain.” Grantaire replies with irony. “What do you think?” he rolls his eyes and steps back, gesturing to the other to enter to the flat.

“Why is he in London?” Montparnasse asks ignoring the sarcasm. “Is he...with...you-know-who?” he lowers his voice because he's sure his tone will betray his anxiety.

“No, he's not with Voldemort, don't worry.” Grantaire shrugs and goes back to his glass of vodka, sure that he'll need it now.

“Can you be serious for a moment?” Montparnasse sighs closing the door behind himself.

“Now you sound awfully like Enjolras.” Grantaire says frowning.

“Is he with Courfeyrac?” Montparnasse finally asks directly.

“Nah.” Grantaire answers. “Courfeyrac founds out that you two broke up only yesterday and Jehan was already in England.”

Montparnasse frowns even more, confused. Why Jehan didn't tell Courfeyrac immediately? After all, Courfeyrac is the reason why they broke up. He thought that Jehan would tell him immediately, trying to clarify everything. Why Jehan didn't tell Courfeyrac? “What?”

“Jehan.didn't.tell.anyone. Only 'Chetta and Cosette. I told everyone when Jehan didn't show up at the Musain yesterday.” Grantaire explains lazily. “You should thank him, I know a people or two who'd like to break your nose because you broke Jehan's heart.”

A sad self-mocking smile curves Montparnasse's lips and he chuckles. “Lovely how I did a fucking noble thing for once and I'm still the one who gets the blame.” Yes, he did break Jehan's heart, _he knows_ , but what the hell, it's not like he is not suffering or anything. He has a heart too – unfortunately.

“You could have forgiven him for a moment of weakness, we all have those, we are humans, and humans are pretty much flawed and fucked up.” Grantaire says taking a sip of his drink.

“It's Saturday afternoon and you are already drinking?”Montparnasse asks changing subject for a while, staring and the half-empty glass in Grantaire's hand.

“Nah, I just woke up with the right foot.” Grantaire smiles and takes another sip. “Anyway, was that really necessary, Montparnasse? I mean, giving up the only human being fucked up in a way that matches the way you are?”

The fact that the answer is no, doesn't help Montparnasse. “What if you find out that Enjolras kissed...who is his best friend? Combeferre? Okay, let's say that you find out that Enjolras kissed Combeferre. How would you feel?”

Grantaire stops, his glass half-way to his lips, focusing on breathing and locking out everything else. His mind doesn't need Montparnasse's help to create awful scenarios where he's not needed, or wanted, or loved. “Fuck you, Montparnasse, just... fuck you.”

“Oh come on, it's not going to happen, don't worry!” Montparnasse walks in the kitchen and pours himself a full glass. “But you know what I mean now.” he adds switching Grantaire's almost empty glass with the full one.

Probably Grantare shouldn't think that Montparnasse knows how to apologize to him, but a full glass is a full glass. The only certainty of his life.

“Okay, I got your point.” Grantaire says carefully. He doubts that Montparnasse is actually feeling like he would feeling because it's Montparnasse, and he has never had self-esteem problem, or thought he was totally useless and expendable. “But my question is still valid.”

“Yes, it was necessary.” Montparnasse replies. “I couldn't go on knowing that maybe I was forcing Jehan to stay with me.”

“Do you want my opinion?” Grantaire asks sitting on the couch careful not to spill his drink.

“No I am here because I like your company and drinking with you.” Montparnasse rolls his eyes sitting next to the other.

“Hey, there was a time when you _loved_ spending time with me.” Grantaire reminds simply. Okay, maybe loved is not the right word, but he wasn't the only one enjoying himself in bed.

“Fine.” Montparnasse doesn't even fight, he's not there to have an argument with Grantaire about their time together, there is something more important that is bothering him right now. He takes a sip of his drink making a grimace; the taste is strong and it's too early for this. “I'm here because you own me hours of listening to my problems considering how much you complained about Enjolras.”

“Hours? Don't be ridiculous.” Grantaire says but he knows it's true. It's not easy to keep your mouth shout when you are drunk, literally fucked, and there is really no inhibition left.

“Grantaire.” Montparnasse says seriously. “I need to talk with someone who will not laugh in my face because I miss him.”

“I promise I'm not going to laugh.” Grantaire reassures solemnly. “I honestly think its normal you miss him. I mean you are not the kind of person that has serious relationship. No offense.”

“None taken, you are right.” Montparnasse shrugs. He has always been more interested in occasional sex. “And now I know why I never had serious relationships before. Being in love sucks.”

“Welcome to the club.” Grantaire raises his glass up in a toast. “Remind me later to give you a card.”

“Shut up, you have a boyfriend and you are in a happy relationship.” Montparnasse protests staring at his own glass.

“Happy? Oh please, I have a talent for drama and Enjolras has a talent for over-reactions.” Grantaire chuckles finding amusing how they can just push each other over the limit so well. “Anyway,” he doesn't push the argument further because it's not about him and Enjolras. “Going back to my opinion, you shouldn't worry, Jehan will come back to you.”

“I doubt it.” Montparnasse states. “Between me and Courfeyrac, he'll chose Courfeyrac.” he stops and frowns. “He already had, in a way.”

“Don't be so sure.” Grantaire warns. “Courfeyrac can be amazing and lovely, yes, but if Jehan was really interested in him something would have happen long time ago.”

“Or maybe Jehan just needed an epiphany.” Montparnasse mutters gulping down his drink.

“You really think Jehan will choose Courfeyrac.” Grantaire realizes suddenly. Before him there is not a person waiting and hoping, but someone who has already gave up.

“I don't understand why you don't.” Montparnasse snaps back. “I mean, Courfeyrac is clearly better for Jehan. The guy looks like a nice company, I just hate him because he likes Jehan, and clearly Jehan likes him back.”

“Do you hear the bullshit that is coming from your mouth?” Grantaire groans theatrical. “You can't really believe that.”

“Maybe I do.” Montparnasse shrugs. “And maybe you should stop drinking.”

“Maybe you should man up and tell Jehan that you miss him instead of being here crying like a little girl.” Grantaire says finishing is drinking and standing up to go and get a refill.

“I'm not crying like a little girl.” Montparnasse points out. “And I have no right in bothering Jehan right now.”

“More bullshit.” Grantaire says with a sigh. “Send him a text, tell him you regret breaking up with him and that you miss him.”

“For how much I do regret it, I can't, it wouldn't be fair.” Montparnasse offers his glass to Grantaire to refill it. At this point it's better to call it a day and try to drown his feeling in alcohol. It works for Grantaire, maybe it will work for him as well.

Grantaire takes the glass, but doesn't fill it again. “You being in love is a scary sight.” he chuckles. “I wasn't sure you could ever fall in love.”

Montparnasse sighs and let himself fall on the couch now that he has it all for himself. “And yet here we are.” he says with a sense of finality looking at the ceiling “You should have told me how awful being in love was.”

“Wasn't that obvious?” Grantaire frowns, he takes the bottle of vodka and brings it with him, considering it easier than filling glasses after glasses. Since there is no space for him on the couch he sits on the floor.“I mean I'm the perfect example of how love beats you up, makes you bleed, breaks your bones and let you in a corner to feel pain without actually dying. After meeting me anyone would think twice before falling in love.”

“You do have a talent for drama.” Montparnasse comments annoyed reaching for the bottle.“I don't even know how that happened, you know? One day I just want to get into his pants, and the other I'm going out on a date with him. I don't even know why I didn't give up when I realized he wasn't going to sleep with me immediately.” he change his position enough to take a sip of his drink without pouring it over himself. “It became a challenge, I had do to it, no matter how long it would take. And then it happened, and it was awesome, and Jehan was awesome, and I was screwed before I could realize it. I didn't even see the fucking point of no return.”

“Yeah that's how it works.” Grantaire takes the bottle back. “One day you are fine, the next day your life is changed and nobody asked if you if you were okay with it.”

Montparnasse sighs dramatically. “Yeah. But it also kinda...nice, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Grantaire states bringing the bottle to his lips. “That's how it tricks you. Because it's awful, but also nice, so you don't mind too much.”

It was really nice because Jehan made it nice; Montparnasse knows he's not able to make anything nice. And he knows that it will not be nice without Jehan.

“I don't want to be in love.” Montparnasse states. “How do I stop?”

“You don't.” Grantaire announces with a shrug. “Man up and resist.”

Montparnasse pouts like a child, but at least he doesn't add anything more stupid. But he really wants to stop feeling like this. Because he was just fine without Jehan and he can be fine again on his own; he can have an awesome life even if he doesn't have someone that wakes up with kisses, or someone that runs his hands trough his hair while they watch a movie, or talks for hours without boring him to death.

Except no, he really can't.

“If Jehan starts dating Courfeyrac I think I might die.”

“For God's sake Montparnasse.” Grantaire groans. “I'm going to kick you out of here if you don't stop sounding awfully like me.”

Montparnasse let go a low laugh and just ignore the threat. “Give me that bottle and shut up.”

Grantaire sighs but he gives the bottle to Montparnasse. It's going to be a long afternoon, and soon Eponine and Azelma will be back and it will be awkward, but Grantaire doesn't give a real damn: if Eponine murders Montparnasse it's not his problem and the police will realize he was too drunk to actually do it and he'll be fine.

 

* * *

 

 _A date_ , Courfeyrac thinks and the voice in his head seems to jump around in excitement.

Courfeyrac checks the time on his watch and feels his stomatch knots; which is totally a stupid things because it’s a date with _Combeferre_ , and he knows Combeferre, it’s a date with someone he has been known for years, nothing should makes him anxious, and yet he is.  
 _It’s just a date_ , he repeats to himself, _you are used to spend time with Combeferre, maybe this time you’ll hold hands, what’s the big deal? Calm down!_

_ Of course that doesn't work at all because it's a date with Combeferre, and it's not just a date, they are going out on a proper date lik _ _ e _ _ the adults they are. _

_ Courfeyrac feels silly because he even bought flowers, but he said Combeferre he would, so he pick _ _ ed _ _ up a small boquet because okay, maybe Combeferre doesn't want to carry flowers around because that would be silly. _

_ It's definitely silly. _

_ But Courfeyrac hopes that Combeferre will laugh and any  _ _ nervousness _ _ about the date will vanish. _

_ It's actually a brilliant plan. What could go wrong? _

_ Courfeyrac stares at the people around him: there is a girl about his age clearly waiting for someone, three guys making awful jokes and waiting for a fourth person to join them, and then there is a younger boy watching his watch. _

_ It's strange how they all have separate lives and yet they are all waiting in the same place. Okay maybe the place is really common and it was predictable, but it's fascinating. _

_ The first person to arrive is the fourth guy, and the three guys welcome him with loud greetings and pats on the shoulder. _

_ Combeferre is late, but Courfeyrac doesn't pay attention to it because it's just ten minutes, it's still reasonable.  _ _ He has been definitely more late in his life. _

_ Then a young girl with bright red hair arrives and she throws her arm around the younger boy and she apologizes then they leave for a nearby shop. _

_ Combeferre is thirty minutes late. Courfeyrac checks his phone for calls or texts, but nothing. Something starts to tell him that something is wrong, but he decides to just wait. _

_ Finally a woman arrives,  _ _ she smiles kindly at the girl about Courfeyrac's age, and the _ _ n they takes a car parked on the other side of the  _ _ street _ _ and leave. _

_ After that he stops paying attention to the people coming and going because he starts to feel like an idiot standing there with a  _ _ bouquet _ _ of flowers, getting cold despite his warm coat. _

_ Combeferre is an hour late, and Courfeyrac knows for certain that  _ _ he will not show up. _

_ He also knows that Combeferre is fine, because if something happened to him Enjolras would have already told him, so the conclusion is that Combeferre simply didn't want to go out with him. _

_ Courfeyrac starts walking in the general direction of Combeferre's flat, and people give shim odd looks, at him and the boque _ _ t _ _ he _ _ bring _ _ s _ _ with him carelessly. _

_ He's not angry, not completely, but he's close to being angry  _ _ and that sucks because an hour ago he was so fucking happy. _

_ Yeah probably angry people don't bring along flowers, that's why people keep looking strangely at him. _

_ When he arrives at the right building, he's furious, he feels let down, betrayed, and pissed off. _

_ Combeferre best has a good answer this time. _

_ He knocks at the door because ringing the doorbell wouldn't quite show how angry he is or the urgency of the gesture. _

_ It's Enjolras who opens the door and he doesn't look surprised at all to see Courfeyrac standing there, barely keeping himself under control. _

_“ Combeferre?” Courfeyrac asks simply._

_“ Inside.” Enjolras answers as simply._

_ Combeferre is, indeed, inside, scanning a scientific article and underline parts of it with a yellow marker; when he hears steps coming in the room he looks up and the article is  _ _ forgotten. _

_ Courfeyrac  _ _ doesn't say anything, Combeferre doesn't say anything, Enjolras rolls his eyes. _

_“_ _ I'll leave you two alone.” Enjolras announces. “Just...” what? What could he say? His best friends are having relationship issues and he doesn't know what could help them  _ _ at the moment _ _. “Be reasonable.” he says instead. _

_ When he realizes that neither Combeferre or Courfeyrac are going to say anything, he  _ _ takes his coat and leave _ _ s _ _ them alone, hoping that they will able to sort things out some _ _ how. _

After Enjolras leaves the room, there is a heavy silence between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who look at each other trying to decipher what is going on in the other's mind.

Courfeyrac tries a couple of time to speak, but he doesn't know how to start, even if the question is a very simple one, and in the end he press his lips in a thin line that shows exactly his emotional state.

“You bought flowers?” Combeferre finally speaks, settling for a casual topic of conversation.

“Yeah.” Courfeyrac replies and he can't be polite even if he wants. “I told you I would buy you flowers, as you told me you would go out on a date with me.”

And Combeferre just stares at him, like the accusation wasn't clear enough.

"You could have find an excuse, you know?" Courfeyrac goes on. " _Any_ excuse, I would have believed you. Instead..." he shrugs. "I find you here. You are not even trying to justify yourself."

"I don't have to justify myself." Combeferre replies, calm as always, his voice steady, his eyes fixed on Courfeyrac ,  his face showing only a little bit of concern . 

"You have to." Courfeyrac closes his fist, the paper wrapping the flowers crunches making a jarring sound that somehow it's the best  representation of his mood. "I waited like an idiot for an hour. I waited for you, 'Ferre, we made plans for today! Why didn't you show up?" 

Combeferre adverts his eyes for a moment, not willing to give an explanation even if he knew this was going to happen. He knew it since the moment he decided to stay at home, but what choices did he really had on the matter?

"Combeferre." Courfeyrac calls.

"I thought that you didn't want to go out on a date with me since now Jehan could be in love with you." Combeferre says matter-of-fact.

This is definitely not an answer Courfeyrac expected, well not like this, he suspected Jehan has to do something with it -after all Jehan has _always_ something to do with it lately. "That's ridiculous, you know."

"It's not." Combeferre replies and he turns his back to Courfeyrac, wishing he could they could have this conversation any other day. "And it's my motivation." he adds stepping in the kitchen, out of Courfeyrac's line of sight.

Something inside Courfeyrac snaps and it does it awfully, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "No, don't run away!" he orders following the other. "I'm tired, 'Ferre! Really tired."

Combeferre looks confused as Courfeyrac angrily throws the flowers on the kitchen table; for a moment he focuses on the discarded flowers and what a shame was wasting such pretty flowers.

"You keep pretending you are fine but you are not! Don't think I'm an idiot - I can tell!" Courfeyrac crosses his arms over his chest. "So can you stop acting like a damn saint and _talk to me_?"

"There is nothing to say, really." Combeferre says politely, but he can't add his usual polite smile to his words, he really can't. There is a lot to say, but no good will come to it, so he'll stay silent. It's better this way.

"You always do that!" Courfeyrac says exasperated. "When things are about you, suddenly it's nothing." he doesn't want to sound angry, but he is. He's angry at Combeferre for hiding himself behind his silence, for not caring enough about himself. How can he not care about himself? _How?_ "'Ferre I dragged you into a shitty situation, so I know there is something to say."

"You didn't drag me into anything." Combeferre says seriously, he starts pacing the room because he can't physically stop in a spot, or he's sure Courfeyrac's gaze will burn him. Maybe, if he moves around, it will not hurt as much.

"Oh yeah because sleeping with you while I go around kissing Jehan is nothing." Courfeyrac snaps and he hates himself (but really, that's not a new feeling lately) but if Combeferre is not going to face the truth, he will force him to, even if he has to be rude and cruel.

Courfeyrac's words hit the target and Combeferre stops and sighs, taking time to formulate a proper reply for that. "But you didn't drag me into it." he repeats. "I dragged myself into it."

"Mh, I'm pretty sure I'm involved too." Courfeyrac points out.

"It was _my_ decision, Courf." Combeferre starts moving again and he does everything not to look at the other. Well, actually he really didn't decide anything, it was more about accepting the defeat and follow his feelings instead of his mind, "I knew exactly what was happening between you and Jehan, so you didn't really do anything."

"I kissed you." Courfeyrac reminds blankly.

"And what I did? I kissed you back and spent the night with you instead of going back home. I should have go home." Combeferre says to himself the last part, but the room is small, the flat is empty and he knows Courfeyrac heard that too and he doesn't want to see the effect of his words. "But I wanted it." he adds. "So, I stayed even if I knew I shouldn't have. And you needed it, and I didn't want you to search comfort in some stranger again." Not after the first night they went out together.

"You immolated yourself?" how Courfeyrac can keep his voice neutral it's a mystery, because suddenly he's not sure if Combeferre really wanted it. What if he just pitied him because he was crying like a child, trying to drown his misery in alcohol, loud music, and occasional sex?

"I told you: I wanted it." Combeferre looks up at Courfeyrac, so that the other can clearly see he's not lying. "And because I wanted it, I didn't do the rational thing. So no, Courfeyrac, you didn't drag me into any situation. I put myself in this situation."

"And that's why you think you should endure everything that happens? Because it's your fault, because your brought that to yourself?"

Combeferre doesn't answer, which is an answer itself.

"Do you realize," Courfeyrac starts calmly unlocking his arms, "That I wanted it as much as you did?" He never wanted anyone like he wanted - _wants_ \- Combeferre (only Jehan, in some very vivid and explicit dreams). "And I wanted it because it was _you_ , not because you were the first available option -"

"What I know," Combeferre interrupts him before he can go on. "is that you are in love with Jehan, and Jehan may feel the same way. You have no reason to date me, at the moment."

"If you say Jehan's name again, I swear to God..." Courfeyrac hisses pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not about him, keep him out of this conversation! Or _an_ _y_ other conversation between us! Somehow you _always_ end up talking about him!"

"And how am I supposed to do it if it's _all_ about Jehan?" Combeferre slams his hands on the surface of the table, his voice high and filled with anger. "The reason why we got closer, why we kissed, why we slept together _it's_ Jehan! Nothing that we did together in the past months had any other reason! So I'm sorry if I find hard to keep him out of the conversation since there would be no conversation if it wasn't for him!"

Once, Courfeyrac wished that Combeferre would snap and tell him exactly what was going on, now he totally regrets it, because he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the way Combeferre's voice sounds when he's angry, or the way he looks lost when he realizes exactly what he said, or the way he pushes his lips together, as he wished to seal them to avoid saying too much, or the way he tugs as his hair to find control once again.

After a moment of silence, that seems heavier after Combeferre's explosion, Courfeyrac leaves his spot and moves closer to Combeferre.

Combeferre says or does nothing, he keeps his hands flat on the table, he let his head fall and he still refuses to look at Courfeyrac.

"Why are we having this conversation _now_?" Courfeyrac asks quietly, not sure if he's allowed to speak at all in this moment. "We should have had this conversation ages ago, 'Ferre." there is no judging in his words, he simply wants to understand. "Hell, even after our first time."

Combeferre gives Courfeyrac a quick look, then he chuckles. "Why do you think I ran away that morning?"

Courfeyrac moves closer until their shoulders are brushing, but he doesn't dare do anything else even if he wants to hug Combeferre for five minutes straight until he stops looking so guilty and shaking with the anger still running under his skin. "I'm sorry."

“No need to be." Combeferre shrugs. "I am not an idiot, or a fool, I never..."  _ hoped  _ "thought that this would go on for very long. And clearly there is no point in keep going on now." 

"You make it sound like I just used you, 'Ferre."

"And, exactly, what have you been doing?"

Courfeyrac doesn't know exactly how to answer without sounding a dickhead, but he asked for honesty and it would be hypocrite not to follow his own demand. "Okay, _fine_. Maybe the first time. But if you say I was just using you I'm going to fight you 'Ferre because that's not true. I'm not that bastard. If I just needed someone to fuck I'd be in a club, I wouldn't be fucking one of my two closest friend, don't you think?"

" No, because you didn't need a fuck, you needed someone to take care of you, to comfort you; someone who could make you feel loved and not betrayed. A stranger couldn't give you that.  _ I _ could. " Combeferre point s out, then he sigh s running a hand through his hair. 

“ But...but...” Courfeyrac look s at the other confused. “if you feel so used why you waited months to tell me?” so Combeferre really pitied him. Nothing more.

“I told you, I wanted it.” Co mbeferre repeat s , hoping that at some point the concept will enter Courfeyrac's mind.” But now  I can't go on like this.”

“All because Jehan  _ may _ like s me?” Courfeyrac blink s a couple of time. “All for something that it's not even sure?  Screw Jehan! Screw the 'what if', the 'might have been', and all that stuff. I know what I have here and now. And I'm not going to give it up for something that might never happen. I won't risk wh a t we have for...a stubbor n caprice-”

“No.” Combeferre finally f inds the courage to raise up his head and look at the other. “ Because you still love Jehan somehow, and  _ you, _ more than anyone, should know how it feels to be in love with someone who loves someone else.”

_ O _ _ h. _ Courfeyrac stared  back at Combeferre and,  well, he can't escape anymore from the notion that Combeferre is in love with him and he knew it all along.  
He mentally apologize to Jehan because, okay,  being told that someone loves you in a complicated situation is not ideal, then he mentally curse s himself.  _ Focus Courfeyrac, forget Jehan, it's not about him, it's about Combeferre,  _ _ and you are not allowed to focus on anyone but him  _ _ at the moment. _

“Yeah I know that pretty well.” he says feeling as guilty as he should. “And I'm sorry you are feeling like this because of me.”

Combeferre doesn't know what to say now,  so he stays silent because he already said too much.

“I really mean it.” Courfeyrac insists, reading Combeferre's silence as a statement of  uncertainty . “You are the last person I  want to feel like I felt. Not you.”

_ Why? _ , Combeferre would ask, but he stops in time because he doesn't want to know the answer and because at the moment their feelings towards each other are really a mess and it's complicated. “It's okay, it happens to a lot of people all the time.” 

“But I don't want you to feel like that.” Courfeyrac knows he's sounding silly because,  _ hello? It's all your fault if the kid that helped you with your math homework for all high school and saved your ass from police a hundred times in adulthood is now  _ _ heartbroken _ _.  _

“Courfeyrac.” Combeferre takes back some control on his body and his mind, he straightens his back and looks at the other in the eyes  where his thoughts are loud and clear as if he was talking. “ Don't start feeling guilty, please.”

“It's a little bit too late for that.” Courfeyrac mutters under his breath.

“ Well, stop now.” Combeferre orders. He's not sure he will do what is necessary to be done if Courfeyrac keeps looking sad like that. 

“I can't stop at command!” Courfeyrac protests.

“I know.” Combeferre  accords . “ But you feel guilty enough for Jehan, don't start feeling guilty for  _ me _ .  Please, do it for me. I don't want to give you more problems.”

“You are not -and never will- be a problem.” Courfeyrac states gripping Combeferre's shoulder and forcing him to face him. “Don't ever think that, okay? This is not a problem.  _ We.Are.Not.a.problem _ .”

Combeferre can tell from the way  Courfeyrac's fingers are digging into his flesh that he literally needs an anchor or he will get lost and Courfeyrac doesn't need that.  It's clear that the last thing Courfeyrac needs at the moment is to see the only thing that made him somehow happy ruined.  “We are not.” he agrees  with a slow nod . “The situation we are in,  on the other hand,  _ is _ a problem. ”

“Yes.” Courfeyrac nods too. It's good. They aren't a problem. He didn't fucked up too much. It's really good. “This situation is the worst...”

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre calls gently. “I over-reacted earlier, really, I don't feel that bad and I don't feel used or think you ever used me.” he says because now things are clearer in his mind and he knows he over-did the whole thing.“But I really think that you should take care of the situation between you and Jehan before we can  possibly go out on a date.”

Courfeyrac nods, after all it's logic. Combeferre is always right and logic, while Courfeyrac, well, he follows his instinct and does what he feels like doing all the time. Which is not always a good thing, he knows. “I am tired of this situation between Jehan and me.” he admits. “If Jehan can't make a decision, then I assure you that I can. And I just did.”

This is definitely not how Combeferre planned their confrontation, this wasn't supposed to happen. “Wha t do you mean?”

“I told you, I'm not going to give up what we have for a caprice.” Courfeyrac repeats. He's losing Combeferre, he knows that, and he also knows that he doesn't want to lose him. Not like th is, at least.

Combeferre looks in awe at Courfeyrac and it would be so easy to just give in, because he doesn't want to give up on them either -he never wanted, but he was weak once. He will not make the same mistake twice. _I will break his heart, after I took care of mending it. This is cruel for both of us._

“No.” he says adjusting Courfeyrac's bowtie  so that he doesn't have to look at the other. “ First talk with Jehan, and then maybe, if you still want, we'll think about us, but until then, I can't go on with this Courfeyrac. I can't. I...I owe myself that.”

The worst thing is not that Combeferre is  practically breaking up with him, the worst thing is that Courfeyrac  _ understands _ , so he doesn't even insist. He fucked up enough already.

“Okay.” he  agrees. “But keep in mind that I'm coming back for you 'Ferre.” he forces himself not to move his hands from Combeferre's shoulder to his face. “I mean it.”

“I kno w. ” Combeferre says  seriously.  If he's surprised of how easily Courfeyrac accepted everything, he doesn't let it show. “ But right now you are just  feeling guilty and I don't want you to do anything as long as you feel like this.”

“Alright, alright.” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. Yeah he feels guilty because he _i_ _s_ guilty, so if he wants to act on it he can. But he will not.“I should go now.”

“Yes.”  Combeferre agrees even if he really doesn't mind the company.

Courfeyrac takes a moment to think about how he should say goodbye; in any other occasion he would kiss Combeferre or at least hug him, but now? Now he doesn't know at all. “You should find a vase for the flowers, it would be a shame to let them die in vain.” he says instead walking out of the room.

“I'll do that.” Combeferre nods remaining in the same spot.

When the front door closes, Combeferre decides he will ask Enjolras  to take care of the flowers because at the moment he can't bring himself to  even look at them .

 

* * *

 

Jehan decides that he is at least a little bit drunk on their way back to Bahorel's flat, approximately when he trips on his own feet and Bahorel has to wrap an arm around his waist to prevent him from falling. He also realizes that Bahorel is a big guy. Or probably he's a really tiny guy. Maybe both.

He's sure Musichetta is trying her best to hide her laugh, but the thing is that Jehan knows she drank too and she may not be drunk, but still she can't be as subtle as she would like.

He shamelessly let Bahorel help him walk all the way to the flat, even if he's sure he can manage to do it if he focus -he didn't drink _that_ much-, it's just that he doesn't trust his perception of things.

Cosette didn't drink at all at the pub (and Jehan vaguely remembers that she never liked drinking and usually ended up being their designated driver with Combeferre on their nights out) so it's her duty to unlock the doors because big-guy-Bahorel positively drank as much as Jehan and even if he handles his alcohol better, he'd would have some problem with keys and locks.

Big-guy-Bahorel escorts him to the couch-bed and Jehan falls on it gratefully, while subtly-laughing-Musichetta shakes her head.

"Look at you, it's like dealing with Grantaire."

“No it's not the same, Grantaire is an alcoholic and I'm not.” Jehan points out simply. His alcohol assumptions have always been moderated and scarce: totally not an alcoholic.

“Aren't you a funny one.” subtly-laughing-Musichetta groans finding herself on the couch next to Jehan.

“Well it's true, even if we all ignore it for our sake.” Jehan goes on. “We let him drink because we all know he would do worse thing than that. Like, y'know, using drugs.”

“Jehan...” properly-sober-Cosette warns gently from her spot. She's standing, probably because she has no problems in doing so.

Jehan, of course, ignores the warning.“Like y'know, the time my ex boyfriend gave him drugs and we all freaked out when we found about it. I mean the drugs, not the dealer.” He's not drunk enough to stop remembering the awful moment. It felt surreal -or maybe it feels surreal thinking about it _now_ \- the way Grantaire looked at everyone when Eponine called him out on the matter as he tried to apologize and explain at the same time. And at some point before that evening, Montparnasse gave the stuff to Grantaire.

Jehan decides that it's definitely surreal at this point.

“You should really stop talking now.” Musichetta says out loud with another groan.

“The worst things is the fact that it doesn't make me _that_ uncomfortable. Why I am not bothered by this?” Jehan asks confused. He just accepted the fact. _Who the fuck just accepts_ _something like that_ _?_ His mind screams at him, made louder by the alcohol. _Well, I do_ , he replies to his mind. Because he can't do nothing about it. Because Montparnasse wasn't his boyfriend at the time. Because it wasn't Jehan's boyfriend who gave drugs to Grantaire. It was Montparnasse.

Simply Montparnasse.

“Because, thankfully, Grantaire is okay?” Musichetta offers, her head resting on the back of the couch, her yes fixed on the ceiling.

“No – I mean yeah that for sure, but...what kind of person -of friend!- dates the person that caused so much distress to Eponine and could have -hypothetically speaking- killed Grantaire?” _Well, I do_ , he says to himself again. Because Montparnasse wasn't his boyfriend when he hit Eponine either.

 _That's pretty much_ _the lamest excuse ever_ , a part of his mind says.

“Yeah...But Montparnasse didn't kill Grantaire and everything was fine in the end.” Bahorel cuts short. He looks even bigger when he's standing and Jehan is sitting, and Jehan stares at him wondering if it's genetic or his diet.

“Does it really matter, in the end? Does it change the fact that it happened? No.” Jehan frowns, twisting his fingers. “I know you all care and probably you are all happy I left him -no wait he left me.” he frowns even more, not even thinking about the slip. “The bastard! How dare he? It's not even that I cheated on him, not really. Can it be cheating if I was so damn confused? I guess so. No, it's definitely so. Even so we could have sorted things out! _Oh._ ” He stops abruptly and stares in front of him, tasting and enjoying the new kind of rage filling him up. Maybe it's the alcohol, but he feels disdain and anger and for the first time, the break up doesn't hurt. The break up makes him angry. Because they could have worked things out, because Montparnasse gave up too quickly, too easily. “I think that I hate him.”

“Now that's a little too extreme, don't you think?” Cosette tries a smile, a gentle and kind smile, and when Jehan looks at her he swears she looks like a perfect angel. Maybe that's what Marius sees every day.

“Nope. I definitely hate him. Because I loved him and he didn't care and left me like I was nothing.” Jehan tries to sound solemn, but the alcohol makes his words sounding more loose, less incisive, as he's speaking with less care than usually. Funny, because it's the contrary.

“We already discussed this, Jehan. He _cared_ , that's what made him act like he did. You know it.” Musichetta says half annoyed half exasperated. Not very nicely, in Jehan's opinion.

“Oh yeah I know that _he_ cared. Do you think that _I_ care? Do you think I appreciate his twisted way of showing how much he cares?” Jehan can't - _won't_ \- stop following this wave of anger, because it feels good. At least better than the numbness he felt when Montparnasse left. This is hundred times better. It's a reaction. It's good. And satisfying. “I should forget about him and date Courf. Courf would never hit Eponine or give drugs to Grantaire. Courf is definitely a better person than 'Parnasse.”

“Nobody is going to argue over that.” Bahorel declares coming back from the kitchen with a bag of chips.

Musichetta reaches out a hand and Bahorel let her have some chips, Cosette declines gently, and Jehan takes one from the bunch in Musichetta's hands.

“Except, he's not. Not really. Because I asked him a lot of time what was wrong and he lied. And lied. Then lied some more.” Jehan flinches because he thought he was over this and apparently he's not. So the anger he feels for Montparnasse switches to Courfeyrac, easily as his heart. “He preferred to punch 'Parnasse than telling me the truth. Which is somehow understandable, I'd probably keep my feelings secret too in the same situation -just like Feuilly did with 'Orel. You told me, 'Orel, friends loving friends can be complicated. So, no I don't blame him for not telling me, it's just that I don't like to be lied to.”

“Nobody does Jehan.” Musichetta eats her chips methodically.

“So in the end I'm here, in London, escaping from a situation that was driving me crazy. The funniest thing is that both person have hurt me. And I hurt them both. Wonderful.” Jehan spread his arms in what should be a gesture of defeat, but the only things he does is hitting Musichetta, who shoves his arm back to him carelessly.

“Most was just collateral damage, don't worry about it.” Cosette says after a moment, when she's sure Musichetta will not harm Jehan.

“It's just that...maybe I should walk away from this, like the coward I am, finding me someone else that is not involved in this.” Jehan shrugs, only half meaning it, especially because it took him _years_ to find someone he _really_ liked.

“That wouldn't be the act of a coward, it would require a lot of courage to face the consequences. If it's what you want to do, go for it, Jehan. Do what is better is better for you, don't think about Montparnasse and Courfeyrac. If they love you -and they do- they'll accept it and, with time, they will understand.” Cosette says practically and gently.

“Than I'm a coward who can't do that, because I couldn't stand to look at their faces. I already saw Courf's and God knows I don't want to see that look on 'Parnasse face. That would totally kill me.” Jehan mutters sinking down on the couch, trying to disappear. No he doesn't want to see Montparnasse hurt in that way, he did enough harm already.

“What do you want to do?” Musichetta asks curling her hair around her finger, finding the thing extremely interesting.

“I don't know. If I could I'd take both.” _I need both,_ Jehan thinks simply and honestly. He can't see his life without one of them. “But they would kill each other trying to accept the arrangement and that would be totally the worst, y'know.” he adds quickly, knowing that too well to ignore it.

“Yup, totally. They'd rip each other's throat out.” Musichetta nods in agreement. After all she was there when the two idiots arrived in her house after their fight.

“So that's a no-no. So I'm screwed.” Jehan declares dramatically running a hand over his face.

“You don't have to take a decision _now_ , you can take all the time you need.” Cosette reminds him.

“But I can't go on like this! It only makes things more confused. For me and for them.” Jehan keeps his face hidden behind his hand and groans. Also, who can assure him that Montparnasse didn't already find someone else? The guy is hot, so hot that even blind people can see how hot he is, so he wouldn't have a problem in replacing him. _God I don't want to be replaced._ “It's just that I can't find a good motivation to reject one.”

“Fuck motivations, man! Who needs them? You don't owe them anything, Jehan. You owe yourself to be in a happy, healthy and satisfying relationship. That's your damn motivation.” Bahorel barks finally putting away the bag of chips. “Seriously.”

“Yeah. Right. Right.” Jehan nods slowly and let falls his hand on his lap, with the other one. “I think I may be too drunk to take a decision now, anyway.”

“Or maybe you are drunk enough to past your everyone-must-be-happy complex.” Musichetta says simply.

“Good observation.” Jehan stares at the girl for a moment, then he sighs. “So, since I can't have both and I can't leave them, I'm going back to the first option: picking one hoping that the other will not hate me.”

“Yeah.” Musichetta agrees rising up an arm as she's trying to cheer. “We went full circle and resolved absolutely nothing!”

“Hey just because you have been there done that doesn't it mean it's easy, smart girl.” Jehan protests, his voice probably too high but he doesn't care.

“Because I have been there done that it means you'll survive so stop it, flower boy.” Musichetta snaps back.

Cosette gives them a warning look, while Bahorel is definitely trying to stop his laugh, but he's even worse than Musichetta at being subtle.

“The point!” Jehan exclaims going back on the main subject. “Is that I know them, I know what a relationship with either will give me, and I know I'd be happy with both. That's the problem!” when there is no words from his friends, he goes on. “What I mean is that _I am the problem!_ Not them. Because they are both pretty easy to understand, but me? I am a mess and I always have been. Because I'm both the nice guy and the weird guy. And...having feelings for both is...just the perfect example of it, y'know?” he takes a deep breath. “So this is also about, I dunno, deciding who I am.”

“Memo: never allow Jehan to drink because he gets all philosophical and introspective.” Musichetta mumbles to herself, holding an invisible recorder close to her face.

“Shut up.” Jehan rolls his eyes. “Seriously shut up. I am having a life crisis _and_ a love life crisis at the same time!”

“Then maybe you are just scared of what the decision would mean for _you_ , not for them. Because then you will have to decide what kind of man you are, and what kind of man you love.” Musichetta says dropping her invisible recorder. “So you are over thinking this whole situation instead of...asking yourself what you want.”

That seems to force Jehan to silence, which marks a great victory on Musichetta's side. Jehan thinks about cutting down her paycheck for a month in revenge, but then he thinks against it because that wouldn't be fair at all.

“Maybe we all should go to sleep.” Cosette says to break the uncomfortable silence. “We have a flight to take tomorrow, it's late, and you two.” she stares at the two on the couch. “Definitely needs a good night of sleep.”

“I want to complain all night about how much of an idiot I am and about two wonderful guys love me and I fucked everything up.” Jehan says honestly.

“That will not do you any good.” Bahorel says deciding it's better to help Cosette. Mostly because he just wants to sleep.

“Come on, 'Chetta.” Cosette says helping the other girls on her feet.

“I can do it.” Musichetta announces moving a step away from Cosette, and she stands perfectly and proud. “See?”

“I know you can. Now let's go and change for the night.” Cosette almost drags Musichetta in the bedroom.

“Hey dude.” Bahorel says when the door of his bedroom closes. “If you are going to be sick tonight I'm going to kill you.”

Jehan thinks about it a second kicking his shoes off. “I think I'll be fine.” he announces trying to determinate the status of his stomach. “Not sure about tomorrow morning, though.”

“Ah that's your problem, man.” Bahorel says.

Jehan thinks that it's not really a problem, or at least, is a problem he can face easily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost done (originally I was supposed to publish them together for anniversary special) so stay tuned, it will take not a month this time I'm almost sure.
> 
> My tumblr is always [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com), come and say hi!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bahorel and the others have breakfast, Marius and Courfeyrac have a serious talk, Azelma and Montparnasse pack clothes and books, Jehan, Musichetta and Cosette come back to Paris, and Jehan has a quiet moment for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now you know. Same thing as always.

J ehan wakes up to the sound of familiar voices, and it takes him some moments to remember where he is and whose are the voices that woke him up. 

In Bahorel's flat the wall are thin enough to hear from room to room, so at least Jehan is not surprised -not really. 

He  throws away his blanket and sits up and waits for his body to let him know how he's doing after the previous night.

Altogether, he doesn't feel that bad: his headache is not too strong and totally bereable, and he's sure he will totally be able to stand up without big-guy-Bahorel's help.

He's still wearing the clothes he wore the previous night, which makes sense because he's sure he didn't had the will to change into something more comfortable. At least the took off his shoes  like the civil person he is.

He rubs his eyes and yawns before standing up and streching a little bit,  feeling his muscles protesting after a second night on Bahorel's couch.

The thought that he will go back to his bed at the end of the day gives his day a good boost.

That last until he realizes that he will be back in Paris where he will have to deal with Montparnasse and Courfeyrac.

"...and then will come and get us at the airport." 

Jehan follows Cosette's voice to the kitchen and makes his appareance trying to fix the mess his braid became during the night. "Who will come?"

"Marius." Cosette explains gently. “ Good Morning, Jehan.”

"'Morning." Musichetta greets the boy with a smile  not completely convincing, which means that  she's also suffering from an annoying headache.

Bahorel push es a chair towards him with a foot. “How's our sleeping beauty?”

Jehan  plops on the chair  without cerimonies. “Not too bad. ”  he reaches for the cereal box in the middle of the table, deciding that  that would do for the morning.

“If I think we still have to pack I want to cry.” Musichetta moans staring at her glass filled with orange juice.

“Come on,  Music hetta, we didn't have much in the first place, we'll finish in no time.” Cosette reassures her with a big smile  and a hand on her back.

M usichetta breathes out a  _ mh-mh _ and drink her juice without adding another single word.

“Maybe it's better if I start, so I can help you later.” Cosette says stading up from her chair. 

“I can do that on my own” Musichetta says with the same stubborness of the previous night. “You put me to sleep like a baby yesterday. I will pack my stuff, for the sake of my pride.”

Cosette laughs gingerly. “As you wish.”

“Hangover doesn't suit you, 'Chetta.” Bahorel grins finding the whole situation amusing.

“No.” Musichetta admits gulping down her orange juisce. “Hey, Jehan.” she puts the glass down on the table and clean the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “Sorry about yesterday night, I wasn't really nice.”

Jehan eats a spoonful of cereals and shrugs. “Don't worry, you had a valid point about everything. And I wasn't really nice either, so we are even.”

“Good to know.” Musichetta smiles a little. “So I was right, mh? I like how that sound.”

“I bet you do.” Bahorel comments quickly, receiving a piercing glace from Musichetta.

“So, did it helped? Yesterday's little chat?” Musichetta turns her attention back to Jehan.

“Yes.” Jehan nods eating his breakfast slowly, so that he has time to think about his next words. “Now I know I need time for myself, and that I don't have to rush this because I don't want them to suffer some more. I was doing this for them mostly, feeling guilty about the situation, desperatly wanting them to be happy, and to be happy _now_. But I can't make none of them happy if I don't think about myself first; and if I need years to know what and _who_ I want, then I'll take the time I need. I am my own priority.”

Musichetta smiles her motherish smile. “It's good to hear that, Jehan, really. You'll stop overthinking about this, right?”

“Sure I will.” Jehan nods. “Actually I am planning on ignoring the inevitable confrontation with Courfeyrac as long as I can and forget that Montparnasse exists until I don't know what I want.”

“And it's that going to work?” Bahorel asks more curious than skeptic.  
  
“I don't really know, but hey, I can try, right?” Jehan smiles shyly.

  
“Yeah, you do that.” Musichetta nods patting one of Jehan's shoulder. 

 

* * *

Marius looks at Courfeyrac, who is looking down at his plate moving the food around with his fork without saying a word, and sighs a little. Since the previous day his flat mate has been strangely quiet, but Marius had the decency not to pry about the matter. Not that he had a chance, since Courfeyrac has been avoiding any human interation since he came back home.

The prospet to spend another awkward silent meal is enough to make Marius clear his troath.

“Ah... I need the car tonight. I hope it's not a problem?”

"Yeah, is okay for me." Courfeyrac replies with a shrug.

“Thank you.” Marius smiles even if he knows Courfeyrac is still not looking at him. “I have to go and get Cosette and the others from the airport, you know.”  
Courfeyrac stops poking his food with the fork and istead just stares at it.  
  
 _The airport_.

Jehan will be back and -virtually- there will be no Musichetta telling him not to see Courfeyrac, which means they'll talk.   
  
Again. 

_Oh God_.

Courfeyrac groans and runs a hand over his face. He had enough conversation for a life time, really, but the worst is yet to come.

“Hey, are you okay?” Marius asks concerned forgetting his half-finished meal.

“Yeah.” Courfeyrac lies. “Just...you know.” he cuts short with a movement of his hand.

“Yes, I guess.” Marius nods. He expected Courfeyrac to be at least nervous knowing that Jehan would be back. He expected Courfeyrac to want to talk with Jehan since they didn't have a chance yet. “Do you want to come to the airport with me? There's enough space in the car...”

“No.” Courfeyrac replies too quickly. “Why I would come in the first place?”

Marius shrugs. “Because I...thought you want to talk with Jehan? After finding out about him and Montparnasse breaking up...”

"Not today." Courfeyrac states. "Jehan and I are going to have a very long talk, but I don't think tonight is the right moment." 

“You are not curious? Not even a little bit?” Marius leans forwards, his elbows on the table. “He broke up with Montparnasse because of you, after all...”

Courfeyrac stands up from his chair and stares at Marius, his hands gripping the edge of the table. He counts to three before speaking. "I never asked him to do it."  
  
"I know." Marius raises up his hands in a defense pose. "I'm just saying..."  
  
"It's not a responsibility I want. I _never_ wanted it." Courfeyrac goes on. "That's why I never talked with him about my feelings, okay? Because I never wanted this to happen! I'm not responsable for Jehan's decision, especially when he didn't ask me if _I_ was okay with it in the first place!” he takes his still almost full plate and storms in the kitchen.  
  
"There is something you are not telling me, isn't it?" Marius asks turning so that he can see Courfeyrac in the kitchen.   
  
"Well, yes." Courfeyrac admits saving the food and putting it away, hoping to have something to do instead of focusing on Marius.  
  
"Are you planning on telling me?" Marius asks curious.  
  
"I..." Courfeyrac hesitates. How can he explain it to Marius? How can he explain it to anyone? "If I tell you, you'd be the first person I tell. And you must promise me you'll not judge me."  
  
At this point Marius is more than concerned, so he stands up and join his flatmate to the kitchen. "Courf, you can trust me."  
  
Curfeyrac knows it, and he knows that it could help him telling it out loud for the first time. "You see, it's complicated...I kinda have been having an affair with Combeferre in the past months."  
  
"What?" Marius blinks confused, repeating the words in his mind. "You and 'Ferre?"  
  
"Yeah, me and 'Ferre." Courfeyrac nods once. "It just happened, you know? I was feeling low, he was adorable..." he shrugs. "It happened."  
  
"But...you..." Marius stops himself before he can says ' _you are in love with Jehan_ '. He tilts his head and looks at Courfeyrac. "You and 'Ferre."  
  
"Yeah." Courfeyrac agrees again. "Sounds crazy, I know. Anyway, I made a mess with him too, so there is not really a 'Ferre and I anymore"  
  
"What happened?" Marius asks, frowning even more.  
  
"I think that Ferre was simply done dealing with me and this situation. So I am, for the record." Courfeyrac shrugs. "I...care about Jehan, I do, but ..." he sighs, forgetting the dishes and stares at Marius "I never thought they could break up, you know. If this happened around October or November I would have jumped on the situation, I'd date him without a secont thought, but now...Now there's Ferre."  
  
“So...” Marius tries to orders all his thoughts into a logical sequence. “There is a chance that Jehan may wants to date you, but you don't want to date Jehan anymore.”  
  
"Excatly.” Courfeyrac nods. “That's why it hit me so much that he broke up with Montparnasse. And that he didn't tell me a thing.” he explains, looking at Marius only when necessary. “I know it's my fault, I should have told him about what was happening between me and 'Ferre, but...it wasn't easy to go to the boy I loved for so long and told him I was seeing someone else after I kinda kissed him and messed everything up.”  
  
“Well,” Marius clears his throat trying to find something smart or useful to say about the situation. “You'll tell Jehan, yes? I mean not tonight but...soon?”  
  
Courfeyrac nods with the gravity of a man agreeing on being beheaded in the next hours. “Sure I will, but after the talk I had with 'Ferre yesterday I think I need a day or two.” for a moment he's going to go on and explain what happened in details, but as soon as he remembers the look on Combeferre's face, he changes his mind.   
  
Marius decides that it's better to change the topic and quickly, because in the years he shared a flat with Courfeyrac, he never saw him so uncomfortable. “I...I have something to show you.” he announces and he disappears in his own room followed by Courfeyrac's curious' gaze.

After all, he planned to tell Courfeyrac the night before, but he hadn't a chance: as soon as Courfeyrac came back it was clear to Marius that he was in no mood for talking, and he locked himself in his room, so Marius delayed the announcement.  
  
Marius comes back from his room holding a small green box in his hands.  
  
“So what do you have to show me?” Courfeyrac asks drying a dish with a towel and placing it back in the cupboard.  
  
“This.” Marius says shoving the box in Courfeyrac's hands.  
  
Courfeyrac takes the box with a perplexed face and opens it. It takes him a moment to realize what he's looking at.   
  
“Marius.” he says, his voice full of emotion. “I'm flattered, I really I am, but I don't think I can marry you. I mean with everything that is happening with Jehan and 'Ferre...”  
  
“What?” Marius blinks confused. “Courf! Oh my God! _You_ _Idiot!_ It's for Cosette!  
  
“Of course it's for Cosette!” Courfeyrac gives the box to Marius. “I was just playing with you. And your face! Priceless!”  
  
Marius, cheeks pink in embarassment, takes the box and stares at the diamond ring. It's just a small thing, he couldn't afford more, but he hopes it will be enough to show Cosette the deep of his affection.  
  
“Hey,” Courfeyrac grabs one of Marius' shoulders in a fraternal way, “It's great that you finally decided to ask Cosette to marry you. I'm happy for you.”  
  
Marius smiles shyly. “She didn't say yes, yet, Courf.”  
  
“She will.” Courfeyrac says and he means it. “When you'll ask her? Tonight at the airport?”  
  
“In the airport? No, no, no. That's a private thing.” Marius shakes his head. “I'll find the right moment.”  
  
“Sure you will.” Courfeyrac smiles. “And she'll say yes, you two will marry, have a lot of children that I will make sure will know every litle embarassing detail about their father, and live the happy, perfect life.”  
  
“Can you...skip the embarassing tales?” Marius asks blushing.  
  
“Nope.” Courfeyrac grins. “I can't wait to tell them about the day you showed up at my place telling me you came to sleep with me.”  
  
“That's not exactly how it went!” Marius protests.  
  
“But that's what I'll tell your children.” Courfeyrac says simply, enjoying the look on his friend's face.

 

* * *

"Are you sure your parents will not be home until tonight?" Montparnasse asks putting his hands in the pockets of his pants and looking around the hallway.

"Yes, don't worry." Azelma says trying to unlock the door and failing at it for the third time -if only she could allow Montparnasse to use some  _other_ methods, maybe they would be already inside.  
  
"Azelma."

"I'm opening it!" Azelma exclaims before hitting the door with her left shoulder; that seems to do the trick because the door opens suddenly and Azelma almost falls. "See?" she announces when she finds her balance back, holding to the doorknob with all she has.

"Yeah, I see." Montparnasse nods, thankful that Azelma has never been on his team on working nights because she lacks all the qualities he appreciates when he's trying to get into someone's flat without being noticed.

Azelma closes the door behind them, and then make a temptative step forwards.

The apartment is exactly as she remembers -after all she has been away for just a couple of weeks even if it feels like ages to her- and yet it doesn't feel like home already.

Maybe it never really was.

“My room is this way.” Azelma announces moving past the living room and to the corridor.

“I know where your room is.” Montparnasse replies surpassing the girl and stopping on the second door. He leans to the wall and open the door, eyes fixed on Azelma. He doesn't even check inside, instead he crosses his arms over his chest. “So, I was right?”

Azelma tilts her head and stares at the older boy, a little smile on her lips. “Are you trying to impress me, Monsieur?”

“Do I have to, Mademoiselle?” Montparnasse raises an eyebrow seductively.

“Oh save me.” Azelma chuckles shaking her head and walking into the room before she can blush “That trick is not going to work on me. You and Eponine closed yourself in this room too many times.”

“I still think it totally worked.” Montparnasse says simply because it always works, he knows that for sure. “Even considering you saw me at my worst yesterday.”

Azelma chuckles again -and it's the happiest Montparnasse has seen her in a year probably-. “You did look pitiful, but you shouldn't worry, I will never tell anyone.”

“I appreciate it.” Montparnasse mutters trying not to sound too grateful. He's not really proud of how he's dealing with the situation.

Or the fact that he was so stupid to put himself in that situation in the first place.

Falling in love.

How stupid is that?

“What you have to take?” Montparnasse asks trying to keep his mind away from the subject.

“Some clothes and some books.” Azelma says moving to the closet that once she shared with her sister. “It will be quick.” she reassures.

Montparnasse nods and stares at the room blankly: there are two beds on a side of the room divided by the closet, against of another wall a desk is surrounded by a bookshelf with a few dusty books, the window is small not giving the room the right illumination, and there are fading posters on every walls. He knows for sure that the posters had better days, he remembers them being new, now it's clear that they are still there because nobody cares enough to take them off.

He knows more of that house than his parent's, but that's not a surprise considering how much time he used to spent there when he was a teenager.

Azelma takes some clothes out of the closet and throws them on what once was her bed, thankfully she never had a lot of things in the first place, so, considering all the stuff that it's too old to be decent, she doesn't have much to pack.

Montparnasse stares a moment at her, wondering if he should help her, but he's there just in case the Thenardiers comes earlier and he has to drag Azelma away from them before they force her to stay, in a way or another.

He promised to Eponine.

Which was probably a fucking mistake because you never promise anything to anyone, not to a Thenardier, especially not to the Thenardier that knows you never keep your promises.

But someone has to be sure the little girl doesn’t find herself trapped once again in that house with th ose parents.  
Maybe he shouldn’t think of Azelma as a little girl anymore, she’s old enough to be a young woman, and despite being skinny in not a healthy way, there is no doubt that she’s not a child.  
  
“ Here, let me help.” Montparnasse says stepping closer to her and taking a skirt from her hands and folding it with attention.

Azelma doesn’t move for a moment, taken by surprise by the shown of kindness, but quickly enough she decides to accept the help. It’s better this way after all, she can decide which clothes keeps and which not while Montparnasse put them into the bag.

It’s comfortable, it’s nice, and doesn’t feel like running away. It feels like something definitive, it feels like she has an actual plan now.

Of course, she doesn’t. 

Eponine is the one with a plan: helping her to find a new job, not minding sharing a room, taking her to do some shopping for clothes that doesn’t make her look skinnier than she is  or have five years , promising her to bring her to the Musain to meet her friends and new people that will not make her life impossible and so go on.  
Azelma just follows her for the lack of any initiative or alternative.  
It’s not that bad, all considered.

Despite being so deep in thoughts, Azelma is terribly aware of Montparnasse's presence, of his attention to her and the absence of other people, in a way that only a girl in the same room alone with her crush can. "We can, uhm...start with the books." she says marching to the bookshelf.  
  
Montparnasse just follows her orders and puts the books she gives him in a small box, trying to fit them inside in the best way.  
  
"Oh,I almost forgot about this." Azelma says picking up a photo from the book she’s checking.

She has a warm smile on her face that makes Montparnasse curious about the photo itself. "What it is?" he asks frowning.

Azelma gives to him the photo without another single word.

On the right side of the picture a very young Eponine is grinning at the camera, and an even younger Azelma is doing the same, Eponine has the little girl pressed against her chest and her arms around her; on the left side a young Montparnasse - barely sixteen- has a little Gavroche on his shoulder, and both seems content.

There is a christmas tree on the background but at least none of them is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater -thank God.

"Why you kept this?" Montparnasse asks giving the photo back to the girl.

"It was a nice memory." Azelma shrugs. "We look happy, don't we?"

"For how much  _we_ can look happy." Montparnasse shrugs too.

He barely recognizes the young boy in the picture: the teenager has his face and his eyes, but yet looks like a completely different person. He's not sure if it's a good or a bad thing.

"Eponine was still happy, back then." Azelma stars staring at the picture. "You know, before dad became..." she doesn't' have a word for it. "She was happy." she states again. "She's so bitter now. I hope one day she'll be happy again."

"An apology is due, I fear." Montparnasse says. "I contributed to make Eponine bitter. Or, at least, i didn't help her being happy."

"No you didn't." Azelma agrees. "But it's not like you are less bitter than her." Azelma sighs wondering when they all stop being carefree and happy, when life became so complicated.

"Hey, I'm doing fine." Montparnasse points out. If you don't consider Jehan, but he  _doesn't_ want to consider Jehan.  
He should really get him out of his mind.

"Oh yeah because yesterday you were doing just fine." Azelma rolls her eyes. "Totally."   
  
“ I’m doing fine.” Montparnasse insists. “And I don’t want to talk about...my sentimental life with you.”  
  
“ Oh sorry.” Azelma hands him a book. “I forgot, you are able to do it only when you are drunk.”  
  
Montparnasse gives her a cold look. “You are spending too much time with Eponine, maybe it’s not good for you.”  
  
Azelma chuckles, a little proud of the effect of her words. “I think it’s very good for me, actually.”  
  
“ That’s something she would say.” Montparnasse points out unamused.  
  
“ Dude, we are sisters, you can’t expect me to be  _that_ different.” Azelma shrugs. She flips a book open, checks a couple of pages and puts it back in place, deciding that it’s not worth taking it with her.  
  
“ Yeah but you always acted differently.” Montparnasse explains making more room in the box. “You never acted like a Thenardier.”  
  
“ God knows I don’t want to be a Thenardier.” Azelma replies seriously. “Which probably makes me a Thenardier in some way.” she blinks confused at her logic for a moment, then decides that it’s the best if she doesn’t think too much about it.  
  
Not even Madame Thenardier wants to be a Thenardier, so in his mind Montparnasse agrees with her.  
“ Speaking of Thenardiers...what’s the last time you heard from Gavroche?”   
  
“Some time before I left this place.” Azelma answers picking up an old book with yellow pa ges and handing it to Montparnasse. “I'm sure he's fine. He's not here, so he's fine.”

“ Is anyone checking if he's going to school? He's like…. _ twelve _ .” Montparnasse points out confused.

“He's not twelve.” Azelma rolls her eyes. “Give him a couple of year and he will will forget this place as soon as he's eighteen. Remind you of anyone?”

It's Montparnasse turns to rolls his eyes. “A lot of kids leave their houses when they are eighteen.”

“Yeah, but you are the only one that Gavroche knows that did it. The kid likes you a lot.” Azelma shrugs, eyes scanning another book without interest.

“What's the deal with you Thenardiers? Why you all like me so much?” Montparnasse asks half ironically.

“I don't like you!” Azelma says too quickly, closing the book abruptly. Always a bad liar.

Montparnasse chuckles. “You do, Azelma, we all know it.”

“I don't!” Azelma repeats blushing furiously and shoving the book back in its place. “I don't, seriously, that's ridiculous.”

Montparnasse can't help but finding the situation funny. “ _Azelma_ .”

“ Fine!” Azelma turns so she can face the other boy, hands on her hips, chin raised up to take advantage of all her little stature. “I like you. What are you going to do about it?”  
  
Montparnasse chuckles and almost laughs, but he fights the instinct because that would be impolite. “What are  _ you  _ going to do about it?”  
  
“ What am I going to do?” Azelma asked to herself, and suddenly she knows what she wants to do.  
In the spark of unexpected bravery, she grabs the front of Montparnasse’s shirt and pull him closer to kiss him.

  
The kiss is nothing special, just lips pressed against lips; and it’s over rather quickly.  
  
At least, Azelma doesn’t seems embarrassed when she takes a step back and looks at Montparnasse.   
  
“ Little Azelma, you  _do_ have some gut s , then.” Montparnasse sounds very pleased. “And also, not so little anymore I should say.”  
  
“ Yeah.” Azelma nods. Her cheeks are a nice shade of pink, but she’s showing a confidence that she never had. “I wanted to do that  since forever.”  
  
Now Montparnasse even  _looks_ pleased. Flattery has always been the best way to get his attention, after all. “Oh, really?”  
  
Azelma tries to ignore the effect that that question has on her: it’s not the question per se, it’s the low, amused tone used by the other. “Do you,” she starts clearing her throat in a graceful way, “Do you have any idea what it means to grow up into a woman with  _certain_ kind of instinct with you and your damn handsome face around all day?”

A laugh -a very educated and fascinating one- is Montparnasse’s first answer. “My dear, I grew up looking at the mirror.  _I know._ ”  
  
“ Please don’t tell me more, I’m sure I don’t want to know.”  
  
“ I’m sure you can make an educated guess.”  
  
Well, if the kiss wasn’t awkward, that exchange definitely was.  
  
“ Just to be clear, I don’t expect you to do anything about this.” Azelma breaks the silence. “I mean, I’m not expecting anything from you at all.”  
  
_What a nice way to avoid being openly rejected_ , Montparnasse thinks. He also thinks that it would be so easy to just step into Azelma’s personal space again and kiss her and maybe more.   
  
That’s what he’d do with any other girl or guy. Take his chance without a second thought.  
  
“ Azelma.” he starts realizing that he never had to let someone down for actual reason that weren’t lack of attraction. “You are Eponine’s little sister. “ no, that’s the worst thing to say because Azelma rolls her eyes and puffs in an exasperated way. Right, siblings rivalry. He totally forgot about it. “She would kill me, you know it.”  
  
Azelma’s eyes are alive with indignation and  red as if she’s going to cry any second s . “Fuck Eponine, really. I told you, I don’t want anything to you, I’m not stupid, I know I’m not your type and that you will never be interested in someone like me. I’m not fourteen anymore, okay? I stopped thinking I had a chance some time ago and I’m fine. I know what’s the deal.” 

Montparnasse feels bad for her. And for himself, a little: he’s not sure he can turns someone down after the way he broke up with Jehan. Why it’s always him hurting other people? He doesn’t like that role.  
  
“Azelma.” he puts his hands on her shoulder, gently, as he would do with his own sister if he had one. “If it wasn’t for Eponine, it would be for Jehan, you saw me yesterday. You deserve better than being used as replacement, okay?”  
  
“Let me decide that.” The girl replies harshly. “Do you think I would actually care? Come on, this was my best chances at making a move. Don’t blame me for trying.”  
  
“I am not.” Montparnasse assures her gently. “Just...you are the best of the Thenardiers, don’t set for someone like me. Or, since we are at it, Claquesous. Seriously, Azelma. Not  _him_.”  
  
“You think it’s easy finding a nice guy when you are Thenardier’s daughter?” Azelma sighs. “You have always been the nicest of the gang.”  
  
Montparnasse blinks, not sure how he’s supposed to reply to that. “Eponine would disagree.”  
  
“Who cares about Eponine!” Azelma exclaims even more exasperated now. “Look, seriously this was nothing.” she stops for a moment, biting her lip. “ But still...if, you know, things go as you think they will, with Jehan and Courfeyrac living happily ever after...I’m...here.”  
  
For how much that is a nice -and tempting\- offer, Montparnasse has to shake his head. “You deserve better, Azelma, really. Someone that appreciates you.”  
  
“Or maybe I am allowed to take advantage of a situation to gain something, right?” Azelma looks Montparnasse in the eyes, then sighs. “The offer is valid. Now let’s see what you are going to do about it.”  
  
As she puts some distance between them and goes back to her packing, Montparnasse can’t help himself and smiles.  
He likes the young woman Azelma became, he likes the way she is still soft and innocent and fragile, and yet she has a will of steel.  
  
“Come on, we wasted time. We don’t want your parents to show up while we are still here, right?”   
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
There is no point in talking about what happened, so they go back to work, as nothing really happened between them.  
  
And yet, something happened, and the air between them feels different.

 

* * *

When Marius approaches them outside the airport, Jehan suddenly feels anxious. Not because he’s back in Paris, but because for a moment he fears Courfeyrac will show up magically with Marius.

He almost can see it.  
  
He’s not ready to have any serious talk with Courfeyrac for the moment.

He decided he wanted to care about himself firtst, but that definitely doesn’t mean he knows what he wants yet.  
  
“ Stop doing that.” Musichetta warns, giving a light smack on Jehan’s arm.  
  
“ I’m doing nothing.” Jehan protests smoothing the point where the girl hit him.  
  
“ You are over thinking!” Musichetta basically shouts -and someone turns their heads to them for a brief moment- “I can hear your brain’s mechanisms working from here.”  
  
“ She’s right, you know?” Cosette chuckles. She’s some step before them, waving an arm to show her boyfriend where they are.  
Jehan blushes, a little embarassed, and clears his throat. “Sorry.”  
  
“ Don’t be nervous.” Musichetta encourages him.  
  
“ It’s not like this trip really helped me. I fear it only made me more self conscious.”  
  
“ Then, _it_ worked.” Musichetta smiles like an angel who just destroyed a city and made a big debut in the holy bible.  
  
Jehan sighs simply, and relaxes only when Marius is close enough to be sure there is no one else with him. He doubts Courfeyrac would wait in the car and ambush him. Even if he would probably deserve it.   
  
“ Hi everyone!” Marius greets them with a smile, which grows bigger when he rests his eyes on Cosette. “Hello, honey.”  
  
“ Hi.” Cosette’s voice is sweet as the nickname Marius used. She throws her arms around Marius’ necks and kisses him on the lips.  
  
“ Yeah, hi, we are here too.” Musichetta jokes, but Marius blushes anyway.  
  
It’s impossible not to like Marius.  _H_ _e’s such a simple soul,_ J ehan thinks.  
  
“ Sorry.” Marius clears his throat and let go of Cosette, even if he keeps a hand on the small of her back. “How was the flight?”  
  
“ Good.” Musichetta replies for everyone. “They didn’t lost our bags and it’s amazing.”  
  
“ Say the one that complained about making them this morning.” Jehan reminds her.  
  
“ Exactly! After all it took me to make them it would have been a shame to lose the bags!” Musichetta exclaims like it’s the most logical thing of all.  
  
“ The flight was good, no delay, no turbulence, no screaming kids on the plane…” Cosette kisses Marius’ cheek and smiles. “Almost relaxing.”  
  
“ Good.” Marius smiles back at his girlfriend. “Let’s go, so you can tell me about thee trip and how’s Bahorel.”  
  
“ Oh, he’s doing fine.” Cosette reassures Marius, as she watches him taking her bags and moving to the car.  
  
“ Except his english is horrible.”  
  
“ Musichetta!”  
  
“ What! It’s true!”  
  
They get into the car once the bags are all inside -somehow- and the conversation goes on about the same topic.  
  
“ He’s making new friends.” Jehan says, pressed against one of Musichetta’s bags on the back seat. “We had a quick lunch with some of his team mates today. They are really nice people. A little like Bahorel you know? Big tough guy s but with nice personalit ies .”

“And a lot girls working as cheerleaders for them. One of them has set her eyes on Bahorel.” Musichetta adds. “Like she was totally eating him alive…”  
  
“Musichetta! That’s not really necessary. And also you can’t be sure.” Cosette says from her front seat.  
  
“I have eyes.” Musichetta shrugs. “Bahorel, on the other hand... I’m not sure.”  
  
“It’s because he’s too worried about Feuilly.” Jehan says absently. “Also, if he doesn’t notice he doesn’t have to turn her down or break her heart. It’s actually very nice of him.”  
  
A moment of silence filled the space between them in the car, until Marius turns on the radio, completely obvious to his action. The music, anyway, doesn’t really help to make the moment less awkward.

“ Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.” Musichetta says in a whisper under her breath.  
  
That seems to do the trick, because a moment later Jehan is chuckling, soon followed by Marius and Cosette.

 

* * *

_Home sweet home._

Jehan smiles unlocking the door of his apartment and turning on the lights of the living room.

He’s welcomed by a static silence, broken only by the low buzz of the refrigerator working perfectly in the kitchen.  
After a weekend of never being alone and sharing his personal space with other three people, he’s suddenly aware of his privacy.  
Not entirely in a good way.

He leaves his bags near the front door and hangs his coat and scarf before going to the kitchen. As he puts on some water for the tea, he cannot stop himself from wondering how he ended up alone when he had a boyfriend and a friend in love with him.

Ah, yes, right,  _that’s_ exactly why.

But  _there is_ something good in not expecting anyone breaking into your apartment to see you and being alone.  
Maybe it’s because he took a decision -even if it’s a decision that only postpones a more definitive one-, maybe it’s because there is nothing to be anxious or nervous about anymore.

_Maybe_ it's because Musichetta knew what she was doing.  
  
All he knows is that he’s serene. He can hear his own thoughts, he can see a way through this mess, and for the first time in a while, he starts having positive thoughts.  
Next door someone is arguing, in the streets cars are driving by blasting music, and the tea is perfect.  
  
Yes, life is quiet and good, after all.

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very very short chapter. But hey I can't always write 9k chapters, right? I mean I could, but really when you write day by day chapters are shorter.
> 
> I don't have an excuse for the horrible delay. Probably you should expect another one before next chapter. Which will be better, I hope.
> 
> I want to thank Lole and Andrea, the first for believing in me, and the second for being my writing cheerleader! 
> 
> You can always find me at [drunkpylades](http://drunkpylades.tumblr.com) and my askbox is always open to discussions/prompt/whatever you like!


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